TWILIGHT  ECHOES 


EMILY    STUART    WEED 


Life's  music  ever  fails  us 

Till  its  saddest  strains  are  sung; 
'  Tis  only  out  of  sorrow 

That  the  sweetest  noteo  are  rung. 


BUFFALO 
CHARLES   WELLS    MOULTON 

1  890 


COPYRIGHT 

1890 
BY    EMILY    STUART    WEED. 


PS 


kJ  73 

T? 


BIGELOW   P3E«8  :     BUFrALO. 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS. 


If  I  Sailed  Away, 1 

Come  Back, 2 

Till  You  Come, 3 

Retrospect, 4 

Christmas  Chimes, 5 

If  We  Only  Knew, 6 

Beyond  the  Sunset, 7 

Yesterday  —  To-morrow, 8 

Some  One, 9 

Good-night 10 

For  Aye, 11 

How  Strange, 12 

All  the  Daylight, 13 

Perhaps, 15 

Shadows, 15 

Promise, 17 

The  "Old  Love," 17 

Frost  Kissed, 18 

Dreams, 19 

Erewhile,            21 

Love's  Return,           21 

The  Reaper, .  22 

Prescience, 23 

Daffies, 24 

Premonition, 25 

Spring- Time 26 


iv  CONTENTS. 

The  Dead  Year, 27 

My  Sailor,' 28 

Fidus  Achates, 2(.) 

Greeting,  30 

Sub  Silentio, 30 

Mine, ,     .  31 

The  New  Year, 32 

Beautiful  Hands,    . 33 

Patience, 34 

Maud, 35 

Memory, 36 

Life  Colors, 38 

April, 39 

Promised, 40 

Katydid, 41 

Night, 42 

Morte, 43 

Aurora, 44 

Charity, 44 

My  Dream, 45 

Drifting  Away, 40 

I  Wonder, 47 

A  Song  of  the  Reapers, 48 

Memories, 49 

Under  the  Frost, 50 

Unseen, 51 

Beyond  the  Summer, 52 

One  Perfect  Day,    ..........  53 

Questioned, 54 

My  Twilight, 56 

Lost, 57 


CONTENTS.  v 

Golden  Harvest, 58 

Autumn  Blooms, 59 

Returned, GO 

To  a  Buttercup, 61 

Ah!    You  Wonder, 62 

Transmuted, 6.-J 

Glenville,           64 

To , 65 

"So  Keep  My  Memory  Green," 65 

Pictures, 67 

Melody, 68 

A  Message, 69 

Heart  Echoes, 69 

When  the  Slimmer  Died,          . 70 

Mile-Stones, 71 

Reveries, 72 

Heart -Ache, 73 

May  Blossoms, 74 

When  Do  You  Think  of  Me  Most?         ....  74 

To  the  Picture  of  Longfellow's  Children,         ...  75 

Intuition 70 

Song  of  the  Flowers, 76 

Pilgrimage, 77 

Unattained, 78 

Incompleteness, 79 

Sonnet, 80 

Lines  To  G.  H.  C., 80 

My  Boat 81 

We  Two, 82 

Mrs.  Browning,            83 

Violets, 83 


vi  CONTENTS. 

How?     .               84 

Her  Portrait, 85 

Pond  Lilies, 

To  , 

A  Christmas  Greeting, 

Her  Room, 90 

Indian  Summer, .91 

Seedlings,  .                       92 

Birthday  Flowers, 93 

To  Mrs.  , 93 

Saint  Valentine, 94 

A  Dream  Recalled, 95 

To  C.  C.  H.  at  Sea, 96 

Somebody  Loves  Me  in  Dreams, 97 

"Three-Score  and  Ten," 98 

Forever, 99 

In  Vain, 100 

De  Profundis, 101 

SONG    WORDS. 

Drifting, 103 

Answered, 104 

Lullaby  — Rest,            104 

Bird  and  Wind, 105 

Donald, 106 

When  the  Year  Grows  Old, 106 

Sailing, 107 

My  King,          .               108 

OCEAN    LETTERS. 

To  K.  D., 109 

To  C.  C.  H.,    .       .  HI 


CONTENTS.  vii 

Christmas  Letter, 114 

The  Sleeping  Beauty, 115 

Capture  of  Stony  Point  by  General  Wayne,          .        .121 

POEMS    FOR    LITTLE    ONES. 

Little  Elsie  to  the  Flowers, 125 

The  Little  Dauphin  of  Franco, 12(5 

The  Mouse  and  the  Bee 128 

Jack's  New  Year, 131 

Mischief, 133 

The  Lily  Fairy, 135 

The  Spider  and  the  Fly, 138 

Pushed  Out  of  the  Nest, 142 

Christmas  Carol, 143 

DRAMA.    FOR    LITTLE    ONES. 

Love's  Victory, 145 

IMPROMPTU    LINES. 

To    *    *    * 148 

Omne  Tempus, 148 

Davis's  Mill, 148 

Thy  Presence, 149 

You, 149 

St.  Agnes  Eve, 149 

August  Afternoon, 149 

From  Me  to  Thee, '.  150 

Anon, 150 

CHRISTMAS    VERSES. 

To  , 151 

To  A.  N., 151 


CONTENTS. 


To    *    *    * 151 

To  — , I** 

AUTOGRAPH    SCRAPS. 

To  S.  M., 15a 

To  A.  M.  W., 153 

To  C.  S., 1;")4 

To  Alice  A.,     ...  15t 

To  Louie  W., 15* 

To  C.   H, 154 

To  L.  II., 155 

To  II.  E.  S. 155 

To  N.  S., 155 

To  F.  S., 15G 

ACROSTICS. 

Garfield 157 

Neal, 157 

May, 157 

BIRTHDAY    VERSES. 

TO , 153 

To  C.  C.  H., 158 

In  Memorian) , 159 


TWILIGHT  ECHOES. 


IF  I  SAILED  AWAY. 

What  would  you  do,  Dear  Heart,  if  to-day 

Over  the  seas  I  sailed  away, 

Out  of  sight  of  your  earnest  eyes, 

Out  of  sound  of  your  low  replies, 

Out  of  reach  of  your  warm,  white  hand 

That  lies  in  mine,  with  a  golden  band, 

Love's  pledge  that  must  bind  us  "forever  and  aye"- 

But,  what,  Dear  Heart,  if  I  sailed  away  ? 

Whisper  it  low,  and  whisper  it  clear, 

What  would  you  do  with  all  the  year? 

How  would  you  meet  the  days  and  hours, 

How  could   you  visit  our  "Fern  Land"  and  flowers 

Could  you  wander  alone  the  daisied  fields, 

Or  gather  alone  the  "  Autumn  Shields  " 

Of  gold  and  yellow,   of   crimson  and  gray', 

If  I  sailed,  Sweet  Love,  from  your  heart  away  '.' 


TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 

Let  your  answer,  mine  own,  be  sweet  and  low. 
Tell  me,  dear,  you  would  miss  me  so 
That  life,   and  light,  would  darker  be 
If  I  sailed  away  on  any  sea. 
For  sail  I  must,  Dear  Heart,  some  day, 
But  my  soul  will  claim  you  forever  and  aye. 
Love  can  not  die,  though  Time  may  cease — 
Sweetheart,  give,  ere  I  sail,  this  peace. 


COME  BACK. 

Ah,  dear  one,  the  sweet  summer  sunshine 
Still  brightens  the  paths  we  have  known, 

And  my  heart  still  waits  for  your  coming, 
Though  the  shadows  have  longer  grown. 

The  moonlight  that  sleeps  on  the  waters 
And  silvered  the  crags  by  the  sea, 

Still  shines  over  mountain  and  meadow, 
As  it  used,  dear,  for  you  and  for  me. 

So  come,  ere  my  heart  grows  weary; 

The  waiting  has  been  so  long; 
Bring  the  melody  back  to  my  singing, 

The  music  into  my  song. 


TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 


TILL  YOU  COME. 

The  nights  are  fair  and  sweet,  love, 
And  the  morns,  with  fragrant  dew, 

But  what  are  nights  and  mornings, 
Dear  one,  without  you? 

The  fields  are  standing  golden, 
The  corn-flowers  wrave  and  bow, 

They  lean  for  me  to  pluck  them, 
But  how,  dear,  can  I,  how? 

Without  your  eyes  to  look  through, 
AVithout  your  helping  hand, 

The  golden  fields  must  tarnish, 
The  corn-flowers  longer  stand. 

My  nights  and  all  my  mornings, 

However  fair  they  be, 
Can  hold  no  touch  of  beauty, 

Till  you  come  back  to  me. 


TWILIGHT   ECHOED. 


RETROSPECT. 

A  dream,  a  vision  of  forest  streams, 
Of  sunny  days,  of  golden  gleams, 
Of  wild-wood  walks,  of  mossy  glades 
One  sees  in  dreams  in  forest  shades, 
Comes  o'er  my  soul  like  a  west  wind  blown 
Over  fields  of  bloom  with  clover  sown, 

Comes  over  my  heart  this  gladsome  day, 
While  I  count  the  hours  as  they  throb  away 
Into  the  past,  with  the  hours  that  died 
When  the  summer  waned  into  autumn-tide, 
And  left  me  to  dream  of  the  days  to  be, 
Which  only  come  back  in  dreams,  to  me. 

The  summer  returned,  but  not  as  of  old ; 
The  sunsets  showed  more  gray,  less  gold, 
And  the  shadows  cast  from  the  steep  hillside 
Seemed    a  mantle  made  for  the  summers  that  died. 
Ah !    that  they  died,  and  only  in  dreams, 
The  sunny  days,  and  the  forest  streams 
Sweep  over  my  heart  like  a  west  wind  blown 
Over  fields  of  bloom  with  clover  sown. 


TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 


CHRISTMAS  CHIMES. 

The  meadows  are  brown,  the  hills  are  all  bare, 
And  up  through  the  valley  the  clear,  crisp  air 

Is  singing  a  Christmas  song; 
Like  the  song  of  the  sea  in  the  purple  shell, 
If  we  list  to  its  notes  it  will  sweetly  tell 

The  secrets  it  kept  so  long. 

It  tells  of  a  time  so  sunny  and  fair, 

When  we  watched  the  clouds  of  the  snowy  air 

For  the  reindeer's  tiny  form, 
And  saw  in  our  dreams  such   pictures  of  light, 
As  we  slept  through  the  hours  of  the  long  dark  night— 

Away  from  the  clouds  and  storm. 

Such  pictures  as  glow  in  fairy  tales, 

When  told  at  the  hour  when  daylight  pales, 

And  the  crimson  west  grows  gray, 
When  we  list  for  the  chimes  of  fairy-bells, 
That  are  hung  in  the  shades  of  haunted  dells, 

And  are  rung  by  goblin  and  fay. 

It  rings  on  the  heart  a  tearful  change 
Of  a  darkened  time,  so  sad,  so  strange, 

When  our  dreams  had  lost  their  light; 


TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 

It  whispers  and  sings  to  the  leafless  trees 
Our  secrets,  that  sigh  in  every  breeze, 
Till  the  day  wears  into  the  night. 

Oh,  Christmas  chimes!    ye  are  merry  and  sad, 
Ye  wound  the  heart,  and  ye  make  it  glad, 

With  the  music  your  ringing  makes; 
And  the  merry  heart  that  has  dreamed  so  long 
Takes  up  the  thread  of  the  broken  song, 

And  sings  till  it,  quivering,  breaks ! 


IF  WE  ONLY  KNEW. 

If  we  only  knew  the  heart-aches, 
The  struggles  and  the  tears, 

That  follow  like  a  phantom 
The  wake  of  human  years. 

Could  we  have  known  the  shadows, 
That  would  cloud  life's  little  day, 

Known  the  cruel  thorns  in  ambush 
Along  the  weary  way; 

How  our  tired  feet  would  linger 
In  the  flush  of  early  light — 

If  we  knew  at  early  dawning 
What  we  learn  so  late  at  night! 


TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 

But  the  daylight  wanes  so  quickly, 
And  the  gloaming  falls  so  fast, 

We  are  left  with  naught  but  shadows, 
Flying  backward  with  the  Past. 

So  with  weary  hearts  and  aching, 
Reaching  out  our  souls  have  cried, 

"If  we  only  knew  at  dawning 
What  we  learn  at  eventide!" 


BEYOND  THE  SUNSET. 

We  can  not  know  if,  after  death, 
Life's  babble  through  the  golden  bars 

Shall  float  its  doubts  to  the  Far  Beyond, 
That  lies  so  dim  beyond  the  stars. 

In  the  "After-Day,"  when  our  dreams  are  proved, 

Beyond  the  sunset's  golden   wall, 
If  all  our  dreams  of  after-life 

Are  proved  but  shadows  after  all, 

\Vhat  dreary  blank  for  all  our  love, 

So  unfulfilled,  so  long  to  wait, 
So  like  the  Peri,  doomed  to  droop, 

And  trail  its  wings  outside  the  gate! 


TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 

What  though  our  waiting  patient  be, 
If  naught  remains  but  shadows  pale, 

In  the  "Vast  Beyond,"  from  which  no  light 
Can  pierce  the  Future's  misty  vail! 

And  yet  at  times  there  wanders  near 

The  portal  of  our  discontent 
A  whisper  to  our  dreams  of  doubt, 

A  benediction  sweetly  sent 

To  teach  us  that  our  fairest  dreams 
Of  all  that  lies  beyond  the  "Biver," 

Are  but  the  faintest  gleams  of  light 
That  trusting  souls  shall  know  forever. 


YESTERDAY— TO-MORROW. 

YESTERDAY. 

Aye!    the  days  are  long  since  you  held  my  hand, 
Long  days  that  run  their  golden  sand 
In  sorrow  and  silence,  in  heart-ache  and  pain, 
For  the  face  I  looked  for  so  long  in  vain, 
Long  days,  and  weary,  without  the  light, 
That  fashioned  to  morning  my  darkest  night. 


TWILIGHT   ECHOES.  9 

What  broke  our  dream?    Must  I  blame  you,  dear, 

For  the  shadow  that  fell  on  love,  so  near? 

We  drifted  apart,  and  the  waves  unkind 

Left  no  track  nor  trace  of  our  love  behind, 

Till  the  winds  blew  low,  and  the  tide  came  back, 

And  "We  Two"  clasped  hands  from  the  wasteless  track. 

TO-MORROW. 

With  a  blank  marked  out  we'll  begin  anew; 
Just  love  me,  dear,  as  you  used  to  do ; 
Watch  for  my  coming  and  wish  me  a-near; 
Dream  of  my  face  when  you  do  dream,  dear; 
And  over  the  Past,  with  its  pain  and  sorrow, 
We'll  cast  the  joy  of  a  glad  To-morrow. 


SOME  ONE. 

Never  a  wind  that  blows, 
E'en  from  the  soft  southwest, 

But  blows  across  the  grave 
Of  Some  One  we '  ve  loved  best. 

Some  one  sleeping  too  far 
Below  the  sweet  sunshine 

To  hear  the  zephyr's  breath 
As  it  stirs  the  myrtle  vine, 


10  TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 

Too  far  to  know  the  footsteps 

That  softly,  sadly  pass 
Above  that  quiet  sleeping, 

Below  the  tangled  grass. 

Some  one,  whose  sandaled  feet 

Grew  tired  by  the  way, 
Grew  weary  of  the  night, 

And  went  forth  to  meet  the  day. 

Oh,  wild  and  wayward  wind! 

Oh,  fragrant,  soft  southwest! 
Ye  kiss  fair  graves,  in  your  roving, 

Of  a  Some  One  we've  nil  loved  best. 


GOOD-NIGHT. 

Dear  one,  when  I  have  said  my  last  good-night, 
If,  stooping  low  to  catch  my  latest  breath. 

Thy  fondest  heart  shall  lose  the  nickering  light 
I  yield  unto  the  shadowy  boatman,  Death, 

Will  morning  break  all  strangely  pale  for  thee, 
And  shadows  hide  thy  heart  away  from  dawn, 

Because  a  presence  loved  has  ceased  to  be, 
Because  a  something  out  of  life  has  gone? 


TWILIGHT   ECHOES.  11 

Thy  loving  words  came  burdened  thus,  and  fell 
Close  to  my  heart,  as  dew  on  summer  eves 

Falls  gently  on  the  flowers  it  loves  so  well, 
At  sunset  hour,  upon  the  drooping  leaves. 

Mine  own,  and  if  the  sun  shall  coldly  shine 
On  days  that  may  no  longer  light  my  place, 

My  soul  shall  wait  for  thee  and  know  thee  mine, 
Though    years   may   hide   me  from  my  darling's  face. 


FOR  AYE. 

How  will  the  roses  know  to  bloom  without  thee, 
Thou    who    dids't   mark  their  coming  with  thy  light  ? 

How  will  the  lilies  know  to  wake  without  thee 
Near  to  caress  them  as  they  turn  from  night? 

The  empty  days  draw  out  their  weary  length, 
And  to  their  thresholds  slowly  wear  away; 

The  moments  pale  and  shiver  as  they  go 
Slow  through  the  windows  of  the  weary  day. 

All  through  the  amber  hours  the  maple,  sighing, 
Whispers  and  moans  among  the  leafless  trees 

For  one  beneath  its  lengthened  shadows  lying, 
No  more  to  glean  among  the  golden  sheaves. 


12  TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 

One  pulse  in  nature  hushed,   and  silent,   all ; 

One  heart-throb  stilled,  and  mute  the  surging  throng, 
One  chord  but  rudely  swept,  and  moans  the  strain ; 

One  note  in  melody,  and  mute  for  aye,  the  song. 


HOW  STKANGE! 

And  this  is  life,  ah,  me! 
So  soon  to  lose  the  pearly  light  of  dawn, 
To  find  ere  noon  our  fairest  flowers  gone 

From  life!    Ah,  me! 
Our  light  and  flowers  gone! 

So  strange,  so  sad,  to  miss 
The  blooming  of  the  summer's  first  pale  rose, 
To  lose  the  lily's  sweetness  as  it  blows 

Its  perfumed  kiss 
To  hearts  its  sweetness  knows! 

To  wander  on  the  hills 

At  early  morn  in  search  of  something  fair, 
And  find  at  eve'n  naught  but  dead  leaves  there 

By  sleeping  rills 
To  twine  among  the  hair, 


TWILIGHT   ECHOES.  13 

Or  on  the  heart  to  lie 

In  loving  silence  and  in  fragrance  pressed, 
Close  to  the  loving  heart  and  throbbing  breast, 

And  there  to  die, 
And,  dying  there,  to  rest! 

Naught  but  dead  locks! 
No  clustered  violets  fair  along  the  stream 
Where  the  pale  wind-flowers  doze  and  nod  and  dream, 

And  the  lily  rocks 
All  day  upon  the  stream! 

Ah,   me!    'Tis  strange!    'Tissad! 
To  watch  the  rosy  hues  of  life  depart, 
Behind  the  purple  hills  that  stand  apart, 

From  light  we've  had 
Once  on  the  'aching  heart. 


ALL  THE  DAYLIGHT. 

In  this  little  dream  and  babble 
Mortals  call  the  life  of  man, 

Lose  no  time,  but  quickly  gather 
All  the  daylight  that  you  can. 


14  TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 

For  amid  the  hours  of  sunshine 
There  are  rays  that  all  must  lose; 

So  before  the  shadows  lower 
Catch  the  nearest  brilliant  hues. 

You  will  need  them  as  you  waken 
To  the  babble  and  the  strife; 

You  will  need  them  at  the  closing 
Of  the  last,  long  sleep  of  life. 

When  your  eyelids  grow  too  heavy 
For  the  day-beams  to  upraise, 

If  you've  carried  any  brightness 
From  the  light  of  vanished  days, 

It  wTill  lead  you  through  the  shadows 
Each  alone  must  surely  tread, 

And  reflected  tint  the  flowers 
Growing  at  the  foot  and  head 

Of  the  little  mound  that  covers 
All  that  made  the  daylight  fair 

To  the  hearts  that  vainly  sought  it, 
Till  you  told  them  it  was  there. 


TWILIGHT   ECHOES.  15 


PERHAPS. 

'T  was  only  a  shadow,  my  heart  said, 

As  the  sunlight  fled  away ; 
'T  was  only  a  shadow,  and  yet  that  shade 

Darkened  all  my  day. 

I  watched  so  long  for  the  daylight, 
And  waited  in  vain  for  the  dawn, 

And  I  wept  so  long  and  bitterly 
When  I  found  my  light  had  gone! 

Perhaps  somewhere  in  the  shadow, 
If  I  wait  till  it  break  o'er  the  lea, 

I  shall  find,  though  it  be  in  the  gloaming, 
That  my  light  is  shining  for  me. 


SHADOWS. 

In  the  track  of  every  sunbeam 
Lies  a  shadow  that  will  hide 

All  the  flowers  it  kissed  at  dawning 
In  the  shade  of  eventide. 


16  TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 

Where  the  roses  bloom  at  matin, 
Smiling  by  the  lone  wayside, 

Showers  of  petals,  found  at  vesper, 
Show  us  where  the  shadows  hide. 

Not  the  flowers  so  shadow-hidden, 
Breathing  out  the  sweets  of  light, 

Know  alone  the  shade  that  follows 
Wearied  hearts  across  the  night, 

Far  across  the  starless  silence, 

Breaking  into  empty  day, 
Bearing  from  our  lives  forever 

All  the  sunlight,  far  away; 

Hiding  from  us  all  our  treasures, 
In  the  darkness  of  the  years, 

Where  it  dashed  the  happy  sunshine 
With  a  flood  of  blinding  tears. 

And  our  wearied  hearts  grow  silent, 
And  our  poor  lips  too  mute  for  speech, 

As  one  by  one  our  idols  vanish, 
Or  swiftly  fly  beyond  our  reach. 


TWILIGHT    ECHOES.  17 


PROMISE. 

Oh,  grieve  not  that  June-time  and  roses  have  vanished, 
And  the  soft  airs  of  summer  grown  heavy  and  chill, 

Nor    that   green    on    the   hillside    for   brown    has   been  ban 
ished, 
For  a  summer  lies  hid  that  the  frosts  can  not  kill. 

And  as  sure  as  the  sunlight  that  now  coldly  glances, 
And  stirs  not  a  throb  in  the  heart,  sleeping  low, 

Will  it  fall  in  caresses,  and  waken  sweet  fancies, 
For  the  summer  must  come,  and  the  roses  will  blow. 

Then  despair  not,  though  slowly  her  eyelids  shall  open 
In  the  dreamland  of  flowers,  her  waking  be  late, 

For  the  sweet  summer-time  with  her  blossoming  token 
Will  surely  return  to  the  heart  that  can  wait. 


THE  "OLD  LOVE." 

Into  the  heart  of  the  golden   summer, 

Unfolded  to  the  year, 
Into  the  soul  of  its  throbbing  bosom, 

Gilding  its  far  and  near, 


18  TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 

Has  drifted  the  light  of  a  golden  glory, 

Fairer  than  light  of  day, 
That  twill  live  long  after  the  summer  's  gone, 

The  summer  that  will  not  stay. 

And  the  days  to  come  in  the  summers  to  be 
Will  glow  with  the  love-light  left  them, 

Ere  the  soul  of  the  year  had  burne4  so  low, 
In  the  altar-fires  that  bereft  them. 

The  self-same  light  will  find  its  way 
To  the  heart  of  the  wayside  places, 

And  the  old  love  look  out  the  same 
From  all  the  wayside  faces. 


FROST-KISSED. 

How  chill  the  phantom  breath  of  autumn 
Sweeps  o'er  the  green  of  Nature's  face, 

Turning  to  brown  the  hillside  beauty, 
With  dead  leaves  left  to  mark  the  place! 

Slowly  and  sadly  they  droop  and  fall, 
No  sigh  of  blight,  nor  secret  pain, 

As  they  are  falling,  silently  falling, 
Never  to  rise  from  the  earth  again. 


TWILIGHT   ECHOES.  19 

The  days  grow  sad  and  fall  as  the  leaves, 
With  the  weight  of  sorrow  to  make  them  fall, 

And  a  cry  goes  up  that  ever  is  heard 
For  the  days  that  never  come  back  at  a  call. 

Fall,  many-hued  and  brilliant  leaves, 

And  sunny  days  with  sorrow  worn; 
Heart-break  and  frost-kiss  are  ever  the  same, 

Though  born  of  June  or  October  morn. 

Ever  the  same  blight  rests  on  each, 
Whether  the  heart  of  a  leaf  or  a  mortal; 

It  banishes  hope  and  slays  for  aye 
The  seraph  of  life  that  lighted  its  portal. 


DREAMS. 

TO    C.    C.    H. 

I  have  been  thinking  to-day,   dear, 

Or  perhaps  I  dreamed  it  so, 
As  I  watched  the  sun  go  out  of  the  west, 

Watched,  till  he  sank  so  low, 

That  the  crimson  and  gold  grew  purple, 
And  the  purple  faded  to  gray, 

As  I  sat  in  the  shadows  that  softly  fell 
With  the  twilight  that  covered  the  day. 


20  TWILIGHT    ECHOES. 

And  thought,   or  dreamed,  it  may  be, 

Of  a  beautiful  day  in  June, 
When  the  roses  were  blowing  their  sweetness  out, 

And  life  seemed  all  a-tune 

With  its  fragrance,  and  joy,  and  sunshine, 
And  the  notes  of  a  low,  sweet  rhyme, 

That  was  sung  to  me,  dear,  by  lips  not  strange, 
In  that  lost  sweet  "summertime." 

I  may  look  in  the  Junes  to  come, 

In  the  summers  yet  to  be, 
But  the  light,  and  the  music,   and  sweetness  gone 

Will  never  drift  back  to  me. 

And  the  dream  of  to-day  in  the  sunset 

Was  only  a  dream  of  the  past, 
I  reached  for  the  sunlight,   dear,  but  found 

Only  the  shadow  it  cast. 


If  One  shall  break  our  idols,  dear, 

To  whom  we  mutely  pray, 
'  Tis  that  our  hearts  may  learn  to  serve 

The  Master,  not  the  clay. 


TWILIGHT   ECHOES.  21 


EREWHILE. 

Your  dreams  must  lose  their  light, 
And  the  darkness  bide  awhile, 

And  the  mu.sic  go  out  of  the  song, 
Ere  your  lips  may  learn  to  smile. 

The  roses  must  bloom  and  fade, 
The  blossoms  lie  dead  at  your  feet; 

The  bud  be  crushed  in  your  hand 
Ere  its  heart  will  shed  the  sweet. 

Aye!    Dreams,  and  roses,   and  life 
Must  know  some  shadow  of  night, 

And" ;the  heart  bow  lo\v  in  the  dust, 
Ere  beauty  and  fragrance  and  light. 


LOVE'S  RETURN. 

Love  flew  by  one  sunny  day, 
Heard  the  call  within  my  heart, 

Straightway  turned  and  entered  in, 
Vowing  never  to  depart. 


22  TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 

All  the  day  he  touched  to  splendor, 
All  the  hours  to  music  set; 

Soon  my  heart  caught  up  the  singing, 
Echoed:  "Love  can  ne'er  forget." 

But,  alas !    the  days  grew  shadowed, 
Love  proved  truant  to  his  trust, 

Spread  his  wings  and  lightly  vanished, 
Left  my  spirit  in  the  dust. 

All  the  days  seemed  turned  to  sorrow, 
Till  again  Love  kissed  my  face, 

Came  repentant,  loved  and  claimed  me, 
Smiling  with  a  threefold  grace. 


THE  REAPER. 

He  came  in  the  watches  of  midnight, 

When  the  eyelids  were  folded  down, 
And  lifted  the  sable  curtain, 

To  proffer  the  golden  crown 
To  him  who  had  soonest  grown  weary 

Among  the  tired  train 
Of  gleaners,  whose  arms  had  wearied, 

Gathering  the  scattered  grain. 


TWIL1GHI    ECHOES.  23 

He  passed  the  couch  of  manhood, 

Nor  wakened  youth's  deep  dream, 
But  still  searched  on  for  the  weariest 

By  the  light  of  the  golden  gleam, 
Till  it  fell  on   the  brow  of  childhood, 

More  tired  than  all  the  rest, 
In  the  cot  of  a  little  sleeper, 

Then  paused  by  the  throbbing  breast 

That  told  who  had  soonest  grown  weary 

In  the  life-race  scarce  begun ; 
Told  who  of  the  gleaners  had  fainted, 

Leaving  the  task  undone, 
And  the  Reaper  stooped  low  with  the  jewel 

He  had  brought  for  the  brow  most  fair, 
And  placed  it  in  the  keeping 

Of  the  weariest  gleaner  there. 


PRESCIENCE. 

Where  do  the  flowers  stay, 

All  the  rare  blooms  of  the  year? 
Cans't  tell  me,   where  arc  they, 
Spring  buds  and  blossoms  gay, 
Whose  coming  seems  a-near? 


24  TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 

Mystery  of  daffodil, 

Crocus  and  violet  fail- 
Shadows  the  barren  hill, 
Lingers  beside  the  rill, 
Lives  in  the  balmy  air. 

Slumbering  truants,  I  wis, 

Dainty  with  purple  and  gold. 
Lie  waiting  the  soft  spring  kiss, 
And  the  sunshine  they  must  miss, 
Under  the  darksome  mold. 


DAFFIES. 

I  send  you  some  Daffies  this  morning, 

My  earliest  spring  surprise; 
They  will  tell  you  of  April  sunshine, 

With  a  breath  of  April  skies. 

They  slept  through  the  storms  of  winter, 
And  dozed  through  the  March  wind's  song, 

When  the  April  sunshine  waked  them 
With  the  first  of  the  flower-throng. 

So  I  send  them  to  bear  you  a  greeting, 
With  the  first  the  flowers  may  bring 

Of  fragrance,  and  beauty,  and  sunshine, 
My  "cuckoo  song"  of  the  spring. 


TWILIGHT    ECHOES. 


PREMONITION. 

You  will  know,  dear,   when  I   lie  a-dying, 
Though  no  word  should  mind  you  as  I  go 

Into  the  silent  Land. 

The  wind's  low  music  will  be  hushed  to  sighing, 
And  all  life's  joyous  notes  to  minor  flow, 
As  ebbs  life's  sand. 

Out  of  the  vast  and  careless  multitude, 
One  heart  will  miss  the  echo  of  its  own, 

And  listen  for  its  throbbing, 
Finding  but  silence  in  the  interlude, 
No  answer  but  the  weary  undertone 
Of  nature  sobbing. 

Though  no  word  be  spoken,  you  will  know,   dear, 
Across  the  silence  I   will  send  the  sign 

Of  life's  broken  dream. 

As  fall  the  darkness  and  the  shadows  drear 

Across  the  silent  night,  to  you  will  shine 

Life's  parting  beam. 

Only  an  atom  of  God's  infinite  made  mute, 
Yet  all  for  love  of  it  some  heart  will  ache, 

Some  soul  make  moan. 

And  so,   dear,  where  is  hushed  life's  trembling  lute, 
I  shall  not  fear  the  sleep  from  which  none  wake, 
Under  the  stone. 


26  TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 


SPRING-TIME. 

The  fair  young  Spring  is  here, 
Just  waking  from  the  Winter's  snowy  drifts, 

And  slyly  looking  up; 
Out  of  the  frozen  mere, 
Out  of  the  winter  dream  of  bloomy  rifts, 
Will  wake  some  fairy  cup. 

Some  tiny  flower  bell, 
Pushing  its  dainty  head  to  catch  the  light, 

Above  the  darksome  mold 
Will  softly,  sweetly  tell 

The  Spring-time  near  and   woo  the  sunshine  bright, 
Its  beauty  to  unfold 

Some  star-eyed  flowret,   pale 
From  sleeping  long  amid  the  mosses  sere, 

Will  waken  with  a  blush, 
Kissed  by  the  roving  gale 

That  stoops  him  low  to  dry  the  dew-drop  tear 
Distilled  mid  nature's  hush. 


TWILIGHT   ECHOES.  27 


THE  DEAD  YEAR. 

The  dead  year  lies  with  folded  hands 
And  silent,  upturned  face; 

Emptied  the  glass  of  its  golden  sands, 

Empty,  and  idle,  and  lone  it  stands. 
Alas !  for  the  tender  grace ! 

Alas!    for  the  broken  bands! 

Wrapped  in  a  robe  of  snow  he  lies; 

We  may  not  break  his  sleep. 
His  ear  is  dulled  to  our  tenderest  cries! 
As  ever  the  same  when  a  true  heart  dies: 

The  old  year  slumbers  deep, 
The  dead  year  ne'er  will  rise. 

Gone  to  sleep  with  the  buried  years 
That  hide  in  the  misty  past, 

The  old  year  sleeps  despite  our  tears; 

The  dead  year  lies  without  our  fears, 
The  year  that  would  not  last 

Despite  our  wrarmest  tears. 


28  TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 


MY  SAILOR. 

How  could  I  know  my  sailor  had  lain 
Fathoms  deep  in  the  ocean  blue? 
How  could  I  guess  he  had  slept  so  long, 
Lulled  by  the  notes  of  the  sea's  low  song? 
On  the  coral  bed  of  the  ocean  plain, 
How  could  I  know  of  my  sailor  slain? 

I  had  watched  each  day  till  the  sun '  s  low  beams 
Touched  to  gold  the  snowy  sail, 
As  each  came  up  from  the  under  world 
With  prow  high  set,  and  sheets  unfurled, 
Up  from  the  sea,  bringing  golden  dreams, 
Fair  as  the  sunset's  painted  gleams. 

Out  on  the  beach,  I  learned  it  late, 
Alone  by  the  waves,  in  the  moonlight  pale, 
The  ceaseless  surge  that  washed  the  shore, 
Sang  of  the  days  that  could  come  no  more, 
Bringing  golden  dreams  and  a  fairer  freight, 
And  my  heart  for  its  sailor  forever  must  wait. 


TWILIGHT   ECHOES.  29 


FIDUS  ACHATES. 

What  gift  from  the  mist  and  shadow, 

In  the  hurry  and  bustle  of  life, 
Do  we  reach  for  and  long  for  most, 

Out  of  the  dust  and  strife? 
Out  of  the  coming  and  going, 

Amid  the  losses  and  gains, 
What  do  we  ask  as  a  recompense 

For  a  harvest  of  tears  and  pains? 

Only  a  hand  to  lead  us 

Over  the  thorny  way, 
Some  patient  heart  to  whisper 

When  our  feet  shall  go  astray; 
Only  a  rest,  by  the  wayside, 

When  we've  grown  aweary  of  tears, 
A  tenderness  gleaned  from  the  harvest  of  love, 

Best  gift  for  our  toilsome  years. 


30  TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 


GREETING. 

Sweet  heart,  a  kiss  from  the  spring, 
In  buds  the  March  winds  bring, 
A  kiss  with  the  promise  of  days  to  be, 
A  song  of  the  summer  for  you  and  me, 
As  sung  by  bird,  and  blossom,  and  bee, 
And  scent  of  the  sweet  red  clover. 

A  song  of  the  hidden  June, 
When  its  world  is  all  a-tune, 
Lies  in  the  heart  of  the  folded  leaf, 
A  promise  of  harvest  and  golden  sheaf, 
In  buds  that  sleep  for  a  season  brief, 
Till  the  March  King '  s  reign  is  over. 


SUB  SILENTIO. 

If  I  lose  my  way  and  wander  far 
From  the  sound  of  the  music  and  dancing  feet, 
You  will  find  me  alone  in  a  quiet  nook, 
With  closed  lids  hiding  a  tired  look, 

In  a  dream  '  mid  blossoming  clover. 


TWILIGHT   ECHOES.  31 

Tired  of  the  dancing,   and  very  tired 
Of  the  song  with  the  music  all  gone  out, 
You  will  find  me  alone  in  a  starless  night, 
AVith  a  dream  of  yon — the  only  light 
When  the  other  dream  is  over. 

You  will  know  me  by  signs  that  the  silence  will  give, 
In  the  fold  of  gown  and  clasp  of  hand, 
With  a  white  rose  frozen  in  finger  tips, 
With  the  trace  of  dead  kisses  long  laid  on  dead  lips. 
Hid  away  '  neath  the  blossoming  clover. 


MINE. 

The  Summer  is  ended,  but  not  the  song 
That  the  Summer  hours  sang  low  to  me; 

It  will  float  through  the  hours  of  the  faded  year. 
Till  the  Summer  and  song  come  back  to  me. 

I  shall  hear  it  all  through  the  storm  and  shine 
Of  the  Autumn  days,  that  will  hide  your  face 

In  the  Winter  winds,  that  will  sing  to  the  hills 
The  self-same  song  with  a  Summer  grace, 


:52  TWILIGHT    ECHOES. 

And  carry  it  down  to  meet  the  Spring, 
Whose  fragrant  breath  from  beyond  the  sea 

Shall  kiss  to  life  the  Summer  that  died 
With  the  song  on  its  lips  that  it  sang  for  me. 


THE  NEW  YEAR 

The  New  Year  stands  at  the  door, 
With  holly  branch  and  bough; 
Crowned  with  smiles  he  stands, 
Filled  with  gifts  his  hands; 
He  wears  no  clouded  brow 
For  the  year  that  is  no  more. 

Greet  him  with  smiles  as  true 
As  he  brings  in  the  breaking  dawn ; 
Outshining  the  morning  stars, 
He  beams  through  golden  bars, 
And  low!    the  night  is  gone, 
The  New  Year  greeteth  you! 


TWILIGHT    ECHOES.  38 


BEAUTIFUL  HANDS. 

Beautiful  hands  are  not  always   white, 

Shapely  and  fair  to  see, 
But  are  often  cast  in  an  humble  mold, 

And  are  brown  as  brown  can  be. 

Useful  hands,  that  are  ready  to  take 

Life's  duties,  one  by  one; 
Hands  that  are  "willing  to  reap  and  glean 

Till  the  reaper's  work  be  done, 

Lifting  the  burdens  we  find  so  hard 

To  bear  through  life's  long  day, 
Brushing  the  dead  leaves,  sorrow  drops 
From  out  life's  tangled  way. 

Gentle  hands,  between  whose  palms 

The  weary  face  may  lie; 
Beautiful  hands,  that  softly  tell 

For  sorrow  the  reason  why. 

Hands  whose  touch  remains  for  years, 
Dear  hands,  though  folded  low, 

Whose  magic  thrills  within  our  souls, 
Whispering,   "We  loved  you  so." 


34  TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 

Warm  human  hands  that  once  we  held 

So  close  within  our  own ; 
Though  now  clasped  cold,  their  silent  clay 

Still  speaks  in  love's  low  tone, 

Telling  the  weary  heart  the  song 
It  learned  in  years  gone  by; 

Beautiful  hands  are  always  found 
Where  the  heaviest  duties  lie! 


PATIENCE. 

Just  because  't  is  Winter,  dear, 
And  no  flowers  are  seen, 

Don't  forget  the  snow-drifts  hide 
Germs  of  Summer  green. 

Waiting  for  the  Spring  to  come, 

Folded  leaf  and  flower 
Patiently  abide  the  time 

Of  the  opening  hour. 

Waiting  for  the  storms  to  pass, 
Waiting  for  the  sun 


TWILIGHT   ECHOES.  35 

To  unfold  the  tiny  leaves, 
Slowly,  one  by  one. 

Just  because  you're  tired,  dear, 

Aud  the  night  seems  long, 
Don't  forget  the  morning  dawns 

With  a  restful  song. 

Just  beyond  the  sunset's  gold, 

Where  no  snows  are  seen, 
You  will  find  the  whole  year's    buds 

In  a  Summer  green. 

Look  beyond  the  Winter  drifts, 

You  will  find  the  Spring; 
Look  through  nature's  storm  and  shine 

Up  to  Nature's  King. 


MAUD. 

The  name  that  is  cut  in  this  marble  cold 
Is  only  the  trace  of  a  tale  that  is  told, 
A  silent  history, 
Hiding  its  own 
Strange  life  mystery 
Under  the  stone. 


TWILIGHT    ECHOES. 

Only  "Maud"  in  the  marble  white, 
"Our  only  one,"  no  other  light, 
Carved  with  the  years 
On  the  silent  stone, 
To  tell  of  tears, 
Or  echo  a  moan. 

Under  the  stars  that  watch  her  sleep, 
Far  from  life's  babble,  still  and  deep, 
She  rests  with  the  night 

And  makes  no  moan, 
'Neath  the  column  white 
Of  the  sculptured  stone. 

We  only  know,   as  we  softly  pass 
Through  the  tangled  mesh  of  the  drooping  grass, 
Of  a  fair  young  life 

That  went  out  alone, 
Leaving  the  strife 
To  sleep  'neath  the  stone. 


MEMORY. 

There's  a  painter  whose  years  are  unnumbered, 
Whose  talents  are  strange  a.s  his  name, 

And  he  frescoes  many  a  dwelling 
With  pictures  of  ancient  fame. 


TWILIGHT   ECHOES.  37 

He  visits  the  walls  of  the  kingly, 

He  dwells  in  the  peasant's  dream, 
He  colors  his  picture  with  fancy, 

And  tints  with  a  golden  beam. 

Sometimes  in  his  mood  they  are  darker, 

And  often  are  covered  with  tears 
That  he  sheds  like  a  mist  o'er  the  picture, 

To  mantle  the  buried  years. 

Sometimes  he  brings  sketches  of  childhood, 

Where  laughter  is  blended  with  cries, 
And  his  pictures  of  youth  and  its  pleasures 

Are  formed  on  a  canvas  of  sighs. 

He  never  grows  weary  of  labor, 

Nor  tires  of  his  visits  to  man, 
Though  he  labors  through  wearisome  ages 

And  traverses  years  at  a  span. 

He  calls  not  for  title  nor  honor, 

Nor  envies  the  scroll  of  Fame, 
But  renown  unbidden  attends  him, 

For  "Memory"  is  his  name. 


38  TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 


LIFE  COLORS. 

It  will  never  be  what  you  dream,  dear, 
Take  my  word,  the  colors  will  fade; 

The  picture  you've  painted  all  sunshine 
Must  be  touched  and  re-touched  with  shade. 

You  will  sigh  that  so  often  the  crimson 
Must  be  necked  here  and  there  with  the  gray, 

But  the  morning,  the  noon  and  the  evening 
Must  be  used  to  complete  the  full  day. 

You  are  painting  a  picture  of  life,  dear, 
Where  sunshine  and  clouds  must  abide, 

And  the  shadows  that  come  not  at  dawning 
Must  fall  with  the  dim  eventide. 

Where  those  roses  grow  fair  from  the  hedges 
Paint  some  thorns — make  the  picture  complete; 

The  bloom  that  the  fingers  may  gather 
You  will  learn  hides  thorns  for  the  feet. 

The  gold  that  shines  out  from  the  sunset 
Must  be  tarnished  by  purple  and  gray, 

Ere  the  curtain  of  night  is  unfolded, 
Shutting  out  all  that's  left  of  the  day. 


TWILIGHT    ECHOES.  39 

But,  dear,   when  you '  ve  ended  the  dreaming, 

And  life's  weary  pilgrimage  made, 
You'll  find  it  the  picture  you  dreamed  of, 

In  colors  that  never  will  fade. 


APRIL. 

Crocus  buds  of  white  and  gold, 
Shyly  peeping  through  the  mold, 
Now  their  beauty  all  unfold, 
Born  of  the  April  weather. 

Where  hid  they  so  long  in  the  dark, 
Out  of  sight  in  garden  and  park, 
Not  a  sign  their  bed  to  mark, 
Now  blowing  all  together? 

April  showers  kissed  them  sleeping, 
April  breezes  dried  their  weeping, 
April  sunshine  caught  them  peeping 
From  the  darksome  nether. 


40  TWILIGHT    ECHOES. 


PROMISED. 

Athwart  the  chill  November  sky 
The  leaden  clouds  hang  dull  and  low, 

The  pulseless  air  gives  forth  no  sign 
Across  the  stubble  brown  with  woe. 

The  withered  leaves  in  crumpled  heaps 
Lie  brown  and  dead  on  upland  moor, 

And  through  the  valley  nature  weeps 
Her  life-blood  tears  on  all  she  bore. 

High  on  the  birchen  tree-top  swings 
The  blue-bird's  nest  and  summer  home, 

Eocked  no  more  by  the  soft  south  wind, 
Sheltered  by  naught  but  the  pale  blue  dome. 

Blue-bird,  and  jay,   and  oriole  fair 
Have  flown  to  the  cuckoo '  s  warm  retreat, 

And  under  sunny  southern  skies 
Their  northern  songs  will  soon  repeat. 

Birch,  and  beach,  and  linden  boughs 
Waived  them  adieu  with  many  sighs; 

All  lonely  the  oak  in  his  sturdy  grace 
Joined  with  the  leafless  forest  cries. 


TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 

But  the  south  wind  whispers  of  sunny  hours, 
And  a  secret  tells  to  the  northern  plain 

Of  a  day  not  distant,  when  smiling  Spring- 
Shall  return  with  the  cuckoo's  joyous  strain. 


KATYDID. 

Katydid,  Katydid,  how  can  you  sing? 
Sing  the  long  night  through,   making  it  ring, 
Ring  forth  the  cadence  on  hours  that  are  flying, 
"The  Harvest  is  over,  the  Summer  is  dying." 

Long  has  she  lingered  in  valley  and  plain, 
Long  have  we  loved  her,  but  wooed  her  in  vain, 
Soon  will  she  fly  us,  and  naught  of  our  crying 
Can  call  back  the  hours  of  the  Summer  that '  s  dying. 

Katydid,  Katydid,  sing  while  you  may, 
Sing  while  the  night  lasts,  sing  and  be  gay, 
Chant  your  own  requiem,  stop  not  for  sighing, 
The  Summer  is  fading,   and  soon  you'll  be  dying. 

Dying  alone  as  the  leaves  droop  and  leave  you ; 
Dying  at  night,  the  pale  stars  will  grieve  you ; 
Gazing  so  pitiless,  while  you  are  crying 
"My  Harvest  is  over,  and  now  I  am  dying." 


42  TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 


NIGHT. 

The  golden  West  had  changed  its  hues, 

And  amber  faded  into  gray; 
The  purple  shadows  fell  like  mist, 

And,  lingering,  hid  the  light  of  day. 

The  de\vy  twilight  kissed  the  hills, 
And  wrapped  the  daisies  in  a  dream ; 

The  pale  young  moon  peeped  shyly  forth, 
And  tipped  the  groves  in  silvery  sheen. 

The  katydid  piped  shrill  and  clear, 
The  cricket  sang  his  song  of  mirth, 

The  breeze  had  lulled  the  birds  to  rest, 
And  night  fell  softly  on  the  earth. 

Fair  night,   with  all  its  silent  hours 
Lighted  with  lamps  from  her  starry  dome, 

Bathing  the  lone  and  silent  hills, 
Kissing  the  cot  and  the  palace  home. 

Falling  alike  011  the  happy  and  sad, 
Dropping  her  mantle  to  cover  earth's  breast, 

Wrapping  the  soul  in  her  folds  of  peace, 
Night  lulls  the  weary  ones  sweetly  to  rest. 


TWILIGHT   ECHOES.  43 


MORTE. 

Oh,  happy  sleep  that  knows  no  waking! 

Oh,  happy  dream   that  knows  no  pain! 
Stoop  low  and  fold  us  in  thy  keeping; 

Stoop  low,  sweet  dream,  with  sweet  refrain. 

Fold  down  upon  the  wearied  heart 
The  peace  that  follows  after  sleeping ; 

Stoop  low  and  dry  the  tears  that  start 
From  eyes  that  once  knew  naught  of  weeping. 

Kiss  dry  the  moistened,  troubled  cheek. 

Oh,  happy,  restful,  blessed  dream, 
Clasp  mute  the  weary  hands  and  meek 

With  life's  last  weary  fading  beam. 

Far  through  the  hours  of  the  fair  young  year 
And  through  the  summer's  changeful  bloom, 

Into  the  autumn  brown  and  sere, 
We  watch  and  wait  for  sleep  to  come. 

And  far  adown  the  purple  west 

Our  sun  sinks  slowly  out  of  sight. 
And  far  adown  the  earth  we  rest, 

In  sleep  and  dreams  of  restful  night. 


44  TWILIGHT.    ECHOES. 


AURORA. 

Morn  breaks  in  beauty  from  the  curtained  night, 

And  throws  her  kisses  back, 
And  sends  her  silvery  smiles  of  light 

Along  the  eastern  track. 

The  pale  stars  hide  in  creeping  mist, 

And  the  fair  young  crescent  fades; 
Fainter  the  twinkling  train  appears, 

As  fly  the  ebon  shades. 

Across  the  threshold  of  the  night 

The  golden  glory  falls; 
Aurora  kisses  all  the  hills 

With  rosy  shimmering  calls. 


CHARITY. 

Live  not  for  self,  but  strive  for  others'  good, 
And  if  lifers  rue  is  dealt  with  hand  unsparing, 

Put  not  the  cup  in  haste,  or  wrath,  awa3r, 
Nor  droop  beneath    the    cross  that  thou  art  bearing. 


TWILIGHT   ECHOES.  45 

If  for  another's  woe  thy  heart  shall  ache, 
One  notes  thy  grief  and  marks  the  record  true; 

And  every  tear  that's  wept  for  other's  sake 
Is  garnered  to  distill  in  heavenly  dew. 

Life '  s  darkened  hours  may  find  some  ray  of  light 
To  shed  upon  the  sorrowing  hearts  that  share  them, 

If  we  but  bear  each  other's  burdens  well, 

And  lift  the  clouds  of  grief  from  souls  that  wear  them. 

Let  sunshine  in ;  give  all  that  thou  cans '  t  spare ; 

And  all  thy  bread  upon  the  waters  cast 
Will  come  again  with  life '  s  returning  billows, 

Laden  with  blessings  from  out  the  clouded  Past. 


MY  DREAM. 

Last  night  I  dreamed  of  a  fairy  lake, 

And  a  boat  by  fairies  made, 
And  I  cried  to  follow  the  silvery  track 

The  fairy  boat  had  made. 

The  bark  was  moored  the  long  bright  day, 
Till  the  sun  went  down  in  the  west; 

The  south  wind  bore  me  the  word  "Farewell," 
Shrouding  my  heart  with  unrest. 


46  TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 

A  vision  went  out  through  the  twilight  mist 
With  a  "boatman  pale"  in  the  bark; 

My  life-light  went  the  self-same  way 
And  was  lost  in  an  echoless  dark. 


DRIFTING  AWAY. 

We  are  drifting  away  on  the  stream  of  life, 
Far  from  the  shore  of    our  childhood's  time; 

We  are  leaving  the  banks  of  our  sunny  youth 
For  an  unknown  port  and  a  foreign  clime. 

We've  launched  our  bark  on  the  drifting  tide, 
That  is  bearing  us  out  to  the  open  sea : 

We  can  never  return  to  those  shores  of  youth, 
That  echo  the  songs  of  our  childish  glee. 

We  can  only  look  back  at  the  fading  shore, 

Only  dream  over  the  happy  past, 
Yet  memory  will  keep  the  pictured  dream 

Though  the  shadow  of  years  o'er  the  dream  is  cast. 

And  when  we  are  tossed  on  the  troublous  tide 
By  the  pitiless  waves,  unseen  and  alone, 

When  our  cry  for  help  is  caught  by  the  winds 
And  echoed  again  by  the  sea's  low  moan, 


TWILIGHT   ECHOES.  47 

Faint  not,  though  the  night  be  long  and  dark; 

There '  s  a  calm  that  will  visit  the  ocean '  s  breast ; 
And  the  gleam  of  light  from  our  vanished  years 

Shall  beacon  the  care-worn  and  wea-rv  to  rest. 


I  WONDER. 

I  wonder  if  I  shall  be  missed, 

I  wonder  if  any  will  grieve, 
When  my  task  is  ended,  my  mission  done, 
When  the  circle  is  broken,  and  only  one 

In  life's  woof  shall  have  ceased  to  weave? 

I  wonder  if  days  will  seem  longer, 

If  nights  in  their  darkness  more  drear. 
When  my  voice  is  hushed,  my  mirth  is  stilled, 
When  the  rooms  echo  silence,    that   ever    were    filled 
With  sounds  of  my  gladness  and  cheer? 

I  wonder,  and  wonder,   and  wonder, 
Till  wondering  wearies  my  brain, 
To  know  if  the  hearts  that  could  love  me  here, 
Would  love  me  when  silent,  and  shed  one  tear, 
And  if  weeping  would  bring  them  pain? 


TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 

Alas  for  the  hearts  that  shall  mourn  us! 

Alas  for  the  tears  of  weeping! 
Ah,  me!  for  the  hearts  that  shall  mutely   pray 
Beside  their  loved  ones,  hid  from  day, 

In  dreams  of  an  endless  sleeping! 


A  SONG  OF  THE  REAPEKS. 

The  summer  is  ended,  the  harvest  is  o '  er 

And  the  Eeapers  are  merrily  singing 
Under  autumn-flecked  banners  of  russet  and  gold, 

Waving  over  the  treasures  they're  bringing. 

What  bring  they,  these  Eeapers,  you  ask  as  they  sing, 
Through  the  autumn  fields  dressed  in  their  glory? 

Go  question  the  Summer  that  hid  in  her  heart 
A  song  of  "The  old,   old  story." 

Go  learn  from  the  Summer  that  died  in  the  lap 
Of  the  Autumn  days  waiting  to  crown  her, 

The  song  that  she  sang  of  treasures  untold 
To  be  found  when  the  days  grew  browner. 

Days  crowned  at  last  with  the  gold  they  held, 
Hearts  joined  that  naught  could  dissever, 

Hands  clasped  with  a  faith  in  the  days  to  be, 
Of  a  love  that  would  last  forever. 


TWILIGHT   ECHOES.  49 

Aye,  gleaners  of  hearts,  these  Reapers  that  tell 
Of  the  harvest  of  gold  they  are  bringing, 

A  song  rings  out  o '  er  the  fields  they '  ve  gleaned, 
And  Love  is  the  song  they're  singing. 


MEMORIES. 

Only  a  memory  of  buried  years, 
Only  a  dream  that  could  not  last, 

Only  a  thought,  and  yet  these  tears, 
Tears  that  will  flow  till  the  dream  be  past. 

All,  me!    the  wonder  of  life's  sad  dream, 
T  here  all  must  wake  to  endure  and  die, 

There  all  must  learn  of  sorrow's  sway 
And  never  may  know  the  reason  why ! 

Till  we  hear  in  the  hush  of  a  new-born  day 
The  "low,  sweet  song"  that  the  seraphs  sing, 

Beyond  the  night,  where  our  darlings  wait, 
Our  hearts  shall  know  before  the  King. 


50  TWILIGHT    ECHOES. 


UNDER  THE  FROST. 

I  mourn  for  the  loss  of  my  beautiful  May, 

And  June  with  her  roses  fair; 
I  call  in  vain  for  the  violets  pale 

That  scented  the  morning  air. 

The  harebell  and  the  lily,   too, 
Have  drooped  their  beautiful  heads, 

And  the  pink  and  the  perfumed  mignonette 
Are  hid  in  their  frosty  beds. 

The  aster  and  the  sunflower, 
That  stood  by  the  garden  wall, 

Have  gone  with  the  breath  of  the  roses 
To  answer  the  frost-king's  call. 

And  the  crimson  and  gold  of  the  maple 
Have  changed  to  a  russet  brown, 

Since  the  icy  sweep  of  the  frost-king 
Through  the  heart  of  the  drowsy  town. 

It  caught  the  flowers  while  napping, 

And  bound  them  with  a  spell ; 
It  left  them  mute  on  the  hillside 

And  lifeless  in  the  dell. 


TWILIGHT   ECHOES.  51 

They  have  gone  to  sleep,  and  the  fairies 

Will  revel  till  summer  showers 
Shall  bring  me  back  my  roses, 

And  beautiful  truant  flowers. 


UNSEEN. 

The  shadow  falls  across  the  hearth 
We  thought  no  cloud  could  darken: 

Our  loved  ones  vanish  in  the  shade 
The  while  we  would  not  hearken. 

Our  hearts  so  loudly  beat  their  love 
For  those  to  whom  we're  clinging, 

We  do  not  hear  the  whispered  call, 
Nor  heed  the  choral  singing. 

We  sing  our  quiet  sabbaths,  down 
Close  to  the  kirk-yard  kneeling; 

We  only  hear  the  solemn  tones 
From  the  holy  organ  pealing. 

So  close  the  shadow  folds  its  wing, 
Beside  our  loved  ones  praying, 

Our  eyes  are  dimmed,  we  only  feel 
The  shadow  in  its  staying. 


52  TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 

Till,  reaching  for  the  loved  one's  hand 
That  warmly  clasped  our  own, 

We  find  but  mute,  unans\vering  clay, 
Xo  echo  but  our  moan ! 


BEYOND  THE  SUMMER. 

I  could  not  speak  with  your  face  so  near, 
Though  I  knew  the  summer  days  would  sleep. 

My  words  would  form,  and  falter,  and  fall 
Unspoken,  because  my  heart  would 'weep. 

Do  you  think  in  the  days  that  drifted  by, 
With  only  the  music  your  singing  wrought, 

That  I  loved  you  less,  though  the  songs  were  few, 
When  love  was  the  song  your  singing  brought? 

Your  every  gift  I  keep  in  sight; 

Their  treasured  sweetness  mutely  tells 
Of  a  love  that  was  mine,  mine  only,   dear, 

Till  I  missed  the  music  of  "Fairy  Bells." 

Life's  path  is  short!    Love's  way  is  long! 

'Twill  live  beyond  the  summer  days, 
When  our  lips  are  still,   our  hands  are  clasped, 

And  our  tired  feet  have  learned  other  ways. 


TWILIGHT   ECHOES.  53 


OXE  PERFECT  DAY. 

So  fair,  so  very  fair, 

That  one  sweet  perfect  day, 

So  fair,  that  never  day  on  earth 

Can  come  again  with  so  much  light 
As  came  that  one  fair  sunny  day  with  thee. 

Each  little  flowret  smiled, 

And  every  forest  leaf 

Gave  back  through  hazy  autumn  mists 
The  look  of  love  that,  smiling,  smiled  on  me. 

The  far-off  hills  seemed  near, 

So  near  to  me  that  day, 

That  every  whispered  word  would  seem 

To  nestle  in  their  far-off  depths, 
To  come  to  me  again  singing  of  thee. 

Their  silent  purple  shade 

Grew  light  with  look  of  thine, 

That  wandered  to  the  woodland's  brow, 
And,  smiling,  kissed  the  flowers  upon  the  lea. 

The  maple's  golden  boughs 
Swung  low  to  touch  thy  cheek, 
As  passing  near  their  scarlet  lips 
They  fain  would  drop  upon  thine  own, 
One  pledge  of  faith  in  all  thy  loveliness. 


54  TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 

The  river,  slowly  winding 
Through  the  autumn's  blaze 
Of  shining  gold  and  purple  bloom, 
Reflected  with  a  smile  thy  perfect  fairness. 

Oh,  more  than  perfect  day! 

That  came  with  thee,   and  went 

Into  my  shadowed  life  and  out, 

As  fades  the  pale  and  quiet  light 
Of  far-off  beams  from  out  the  evening  star, 

Leaving  remembered  light 

Of  loveliness  and  thee 

To  mind  me  of  the  perfect  rays 
That  shine  from  "Heaven's  forget-me-nots ''   afar. 


QUESTIONED. 

Daisies,   did  ye  listen 

Last  night  to  hear  me  pass, 
Brushing  the  bloom  from  the  clover, 

The  dew  from  the  dripping  grass? 

The  bee  had  hid  from  the  moonlight, 

And  lay  in  the  clover  cup, 
And,   daisies  ye  seemed  to  be  sleeping, 

For  your  petals  were  folded  up! 


TWILIGHT    ECHOES.  55 

And  your  pale  sweet  faces  nodded 

Among  the  tangled  grass, 
But,  daisies,  tell  me  truly, 

Did  ye  list  to  hear  me  pass? 

For  Harold  and  I  went  lightly 

As  shadows  through  the  flowers, 
As  softly  as  the  moonlight 

That  kissed  the  sleeping  hours. 

But  I   heard  it  from  the  plover, 

That  pipes  in  the  meadow  grass, 
And  the  thrush  sang  loud  from  the  hawthorn, 

"The  daisies  saw  you  pass, 

And  heard  your  promise  to  Harold, 

As  he  whispered  under  a  breath, 
To  be  constant,  and  tender,  and  loving, 

And  faithful  unto  death ! " 

Oh,  modest,  meek-eyed  daisies! 

Ye  told  that  ye  heard  me  pass, 
Brushing  the  bloom  from  the  clover, 

The  dew  from  the  dripping  grass! 


56  TWILIGHT    ECHOED. 


MY  TWILIGHT. 

I  had  not  looked  for  the  deepening 

Of  shadows  so  soon  in  my  sky; 
I  had  not  thought  that  the  crimson 

So  quickly  would  fade  and  die. 

For  my  dreams  had  been  so  golden, 
As  they  cradled  me  through  the  night, 

I  sang,  "Naught  of  shadow  can  darken 
A  day  that  must  dawn  so  bright." 

But  at  waking  my  heart  grew  silent, 
Of  the  song  that  had  filled  it  with  glee, 

The  song  that  seemed  born  of  the  brightness, 
The  melody  waiting  for  me. 

I  had  thought  to  walk  where  the  roses 

Grew  fairest  without  the  thorn ; 
I  had  dreamed  to  find  them  at  even 

As  fair  as  I  plucked  them  at  morn. 

But  the  shadows  fell,  hiding  the  flowers, 
And  my  feet  strayed  into,  the  night, 

While  I  gathered  the  thorns  with  the  roses, 
In  the  misty  and  dim  twilight. 


TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 

My  heart  bowed  low  in  the  gloaming 
'  Neath  the  mantle  of  twilight  gray, 

As  the  sunbeams  1 '  d  thought  to  garner 
With  the  crimson  faded  away. 


LOST. 

Oh!  have  you  seen  my  baby  fair, 

With  bright  brown  eyes  and  sunny  hair, 

Roaming  the  meadow-lands— 
A   tiny  form,  with  yellow  hair 
That  stole  the  sunshine  and  held  it  there, 

Prisoned  in  golden  bands? 

There  never  was  a  fairer  face; 
You'll  know  it  by  a  nameless  grace 

In  dainty  baby  ways; 
With  moistened  ringlets  out  of  place, 
Blown  about  in  a  butterfly  chase, — 

How  long  my  darling  stays! 

Knee-deep  in  the  clover  and  grasses  sweet, 
Where  the  violet  blue  and  Mayflowers  meet, 
I  left  my  darling  at  play; 


58  TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 

At  noontide  I  left  her  away  from  the  heat, 
But  I've  lost  the  trace  of  her  tiny  feet, 
'Mid  the  grasses  and  flowers  gay. 


Oh !    pray  you  look  on  my  baby  fair, 
With  folded  hands,  and  tarnished  hair, 

And  brown  eyes  hid  from  the  light ! 
From  the  meadow  lands  she  wandered  where 
The  river  sands  lay  white  and  bare;— 

Ah,  me!    how  dark  the  night. 


GOLDEX  HARVEST. 

Walk  forth  in  the  light  of  to-day, 
To-morro\v  may  never  dawn; 

Scatter  roses  and  smiles  by  the  way, 
Bringing  sheaves  at  eventide  home. 

Lift  the  drooping  and  weary  ones  up, 
Leave  no  tired  heart  to  the  night; 

Press  no  bitterness  into  their  cup, 
Bear  them  into  the  sunshine  and  light. 


TWILIGHT   ECHOES.  59 

For  your  harvest  will  golden  be, 
If  you  scatter  the  sunlight  and  flowers, 

As  the  morn  on  the  upland  lea, 
As  the  sunshine  after  the  showers. 


AUTUMN  BLOOMS. 

The  springtide  woos  from  many  vales 
The  sweets  so  deeply  hidden, 

And  flowers  along  life's  wayside  bloom 
For  many  hearts  unbidden. 

Kissed  into  life  by  summer  showers, 

Their  petals  open  wide; 
Softly  they  breathe  their  fragrance  out 

While  summer  hours  abide. 

But  ere  the  coming  of  the  frost, 

Sometimes  the  year  -forgets, 
And  autumn  brings  a  feast  of  blooms 

The  springtide  ne'er  begets. 

Expectant  hearts  oft  miss  the  hour 
The  roses  have  for  blowing, 

But  find  in  Autumn  sweeter  buds 
Than  come  from  springtide  sowing. 


60  TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 


RETURNED. 

The  spring  is  near;  I  know  by  the  sound 

Of  the  soft  wind  through  the  trees; 
I  know  by  the  scent  of  the  meadow-lands 

That  is  borne  on  the  morning  breeze; 
I  know  by  the  sound  of  the  dancing  brook 

As  it  leaps,  and  ripples,  and  sings, 
And  hurries  along  from  the  mountain-top 

With  the  moistening  life  it  brings. 

The  distant  hills  so  dim  and  far 

Seem  near  through  the  soft  gray  mist, 
And  the  brown  valleys  tinged  with  green, 

And  the  plains  that  spring  has  kissed, 
The  purple  heather  and  violet  blue, 

Are  peeping  through  mossy  beds, 
While  the  daffodil  betrays  her  birth 

By  the  perfumed  breath  she  sheds. 

The  chirp  of  the  robin   at  eventide, 

The  swallows'  twitter  at  morn, 
And  tiny  song  of  the  humming-bee, 

Proclaim  that  spring  is  born. 
The  tinkling  bells  of  the  distant  folds, 

The  lowing  of  herds  in  the  gloaming, 
Ring  out  on  the  quiet  evening  air 

The  music  of  spring's  returning. 


TWILIGHT   ECHOES.  (51 


TO  A  BUTTERCUP. 

Pale  little  flower  plucked  from  the  grasses, 

Hidden  away  in  the  daisies'  shade, 
Hold  thy  wee  face  up,  list  while  I  tell  thee 

thou  wast  plucked,  and  why  thou  wast  made. 


Born  for  a  mission,  thy  petals  unfolded, 
Nurtured  by  sunlight  and  fed  by  the  dew, 

Kissed  by  the  butterfly,  watched  by  the  clover, 
Never,   oh!  never  a  sweeter  bud  grew. 

Called  to  the  light,  thy  being  was  spoken, 
Thy  daintiness  culled  for  a  casket  of  trust, 

And  the  sweet  of  thy  blowing  must  mix  with  the  treasure 
I  leave  in  thy  heart  till  thy  petals  are  dust. 

I  will  write  on  thy  leaves  such  a  legend  of  love, 
As  shall  rival  all  tales  of  the  "Old,  old  story"; 

I  will  sing  to  thy  petals  a  song  as  sweet 
As  the  echoes  might  waft  from  the  regions  of  glory. 

Let  the  secret,  "I  love  her,"  be  hid  in  thy  heart, 
And  held  in  thy  keeping  through  life's  long  day, 

And  whenever  she  looks  on  thy  face,  though  faded, 
Sing  to  her  softly  the  words  I  would  say. 


62  TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 


AH  !  YOU  WONDER. 

Ah !    you  wonder  that  I  love  you ! 

All  the  gold  of  earth  is  mine. 
In  "the  light  of  tender  glances 

Earth's  dark  spots  with  glory  shine. 

Else  how  could  the  sunlit  hours 
With  such  golden  beauty  glow, 

Or  the  river  in  its  singing 
With  such  music  sweetly  flow? 

How  could  every  note  of  song-bird 
Seem  a  choral  anthem  sung 

In  among  the  greenwood  branches, 
Had  not  love  the  changes  rung? 

How  could  I  among  the  grasses 
Pluck  the  flowers  His  love  has  given, 

Had  their  sweetness  not  reflected 
In  your  love  so  much  of  Heaven? 

Ere  you  came  my  heart  divined  you, 
Love '  s  low  singing  bade  me  wait, 

Whispering,   "Patience I    One  is  coming 
Who  will  ope  you  Eden's  gate." 


TWILIGHT    ECHOES.       •  G3 


TRANSMUTED. 

What  set  the  days  to  music? 

What  made  the  daylight  fair? 
What  waked  my  heart  to  singing 

Love's  melody  unaware? 

The  yesterdays  lie  hidden 

Behind  the  glad  to-day; 
The  morrows  seem  to  promise 

A  love  to  last  for  aye. 

The  night  is  filled  with  shining 

Of  stars  unseen  before; 
New  beauty  gilds  the  morning, 

The  shadows  come  no  more. 

Dear  heart,  you  hold  the  magic 
That  makes  December  May; 

Your  soul  touched  mine  while  sleeping, 
And  turned  the  night  to  day  ! 


04  TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 


GLENVILLE.. 

Do  you  remember,  dear, 
That  day  we  walked  together 

Atween  the  hedges  set  with  gold, 
And  blooms  like  purple  heather? 

Along  the  winding  road 

That  hid  in  many  a  hollow, 
And  ankle-deep  in  ferny  beds 

Our  steps  were  wont  to  follow? 

And  through  the  sweet  excess 
The  meadow-lands  were  rich  in, 

We  wandered  to  an  upland  slope 
And  knelt  among  the  lichen? 

The  sunlight  through  the  trees 
Showed  touch  of  Autumn  splendor, 

The  marsh  flowers  glowed  like  fire  among 
The  grasses  fresh  and  tender. 

I'll  keep  that  day's  fair  splendor, 

Which  all  my  soul  did  win, 
With  Autumn  Blooms,  and  Dear   Brown  Eyes 

That  let  the  sunshine  in. 

September  iith. 


2  WILIGHT   ECHOES.  65 


TO  

You  need  not  question  if  the  past 
Sweeps  o'er  my  soul  to-day; 

The  memory  of  that  morn  must  last 
Through  cloud  and  shine,  alway. 

No  morn  can  ever  fairer  be, 
Nor  day,  howe'er  complete, 

Than  when  my  soul  awoke  and  found 

My  treasure  true  and  sweet. 
October  5,  1SS5-S9. 


SO  KEEP  MY  MEMORY  GREEN." 


"So  keep  my  memory  green," 

Is  all  you'd  ask  of  me? 
I  could  not  have  a  fonder  charge 

For  all  the  years  to  be, 

For  all  the  unknown  future 
In  the  distant  hidden  years, 

To  keep  my  heart  from  sorrowing, 
To  charm  away  my  tears, 


66  TWILIGHT    ECHOLS. 

Than  the  boon  that  memory  gives 
Through  the  love-light  of  its  lays, 

Than  just  the  joy  of  looking  back 
To  count  the  golden  days; 

To  mark  where  first  thy  sunlight 

Made  rift  within  the  cloud, 
And  bade  my  darkened  soul  look  up 

And  be  no  longer  bowed; 

To  count  the  tiny  chords 
Love  touched  and  woke  to  song, 

To  know  just  how  the  music  came, 
From  notes  that  slept  so  long. 

"Twill  float  a-down  life's  morning, 

And  brighten  all  life's  day, '; ' 
'Twill  gild  the  evening  shadows 

As  the  daylight  fades  away; 

And  when  in  darkened  silence 

Life's  loves  shall  all  depart, 
And  life  itself  shall  ebb  away 

From  out  my  tired  heart, 

As  the  shadows  fall  and  thicken, 
And  I  touch  the  twilight  gray, 

When  my  fluttering  soul  breaks  forth  at  last 
From  out  its  homo  of  clay, 


TWILIGHT   ECHOES.  67 

I'll  clasp  and  keep  forever 

Thy  memory's  golden  sheen, 
And  in  the  far,  far  future 

Thou  shalt  find  it  fair  and  green. 


PICTURES. 


In  the  warmth  and  glow  of  evening  fire-light 
I  am  sitting,  dear,  with  thoughts  of  you 

Pressing  closely  through  the  fading  twilight, 
Falling  softly  as  the  silent  dew. 

Making  pictures  such  as  painters  dream  of, 
Pictures  such  as  artist  never  drew, 

Touched  with  color,  life  and  light,  that  seem  of 
Something  far  beyond  the  painter  knew. 

Woods  and  fields,  and  all  the  pleasant  places, 
Dearest  haunts  my  feet  have  trod  with  you, 

Meadow-lands  aglow  with  flowering  graces, 
Wildering  hedges  where  the  sweetest  blew. 

Come  with  summer  sunset's  golden  glances, 
Happy  talks  by  brook  and  garden  wall, 

Crowned  with  treasures  from  the  poet's  fancies, 
Love,  that  shed  a  halo  over  all. 


G8  TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 

These  are  pictures  that  the  gloaming  brings  me, 
While  the  evening  shadows  come  and  go ; 

With  a  song  the  silence  softly  sings  me 
Music  from  the  unseen,  soft  and  low. 

So,  dear,  through  the  frosty  Winter  twilight 
Love  keeps  fresh  the  last  year's  buds  and   flowers, 

And  brings  again,  across  the  Winter  firelight, 
The  splendor  of  the  golden  Summer  hours. 


MELODY. 

My  soul  was  wakened  when  first  you  spoke 

In  a  voice  so  sweet  and  low; 
It  heard  and  knew  as  the  morning  broke 

In  the  flush  of  love's  first  glow. 

Over  my  heart  your  tenderness  swept, 
Like  a  breath  from  a  sunny  clime, 

Drying  the  tears  my  soul  had  wept 
With  the  music  of  love's  low  rhyme. 

A  music  that  drifted  across  the  waste 

Of  days  with  never  a  song, 
Till  the  echoes  of  love  my  heart  embraced 

Made  melody  all  the  day  long. 


TWILIGHT   ECHOES.  09 


A  MESSAGE. 

I  send  to  you,  dear,  this  balmy  morn, 
A  message  whose  burden  your  heart  will  know, 

A  song  without  words  o'er  the  silence  sent, 
Low  notes,  to  be  borne  on  the  west  wind's  flow, 

You  will  know  that  it  conies  direct  from  me, 
As  it  kisses  your  cheek  and  forehead  fair, 

And  lingers  to  touch  in  its  flight  your  lips 
Ere  its  last  caress  in  your  warm  brown  hair. 


HEART  ECHOES. 

I  have  wished  thee  well,  in  the  dear,  dead  past, 
And  the  future  can  hold  no  fairer  flowers 

Within  the  clasp  of  its  sweetest  years 
Than  the  past  has  hid  in  its  buried  bowers. 

No  warmer  love  can  gild  the  hours 

That  may  follow  the  wake  of  the  days  that  are  dead 
Than  the  tender  gleam  from  the  shadowy  past 

Of  all  I've  thought,  or  dreamed,  or  said. 


70  TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 

I  can  only  add  to  the  dreams  for  you 
The  fairest  gift  that  can  come  from  me, 

A  love  that  may  brighten  the  future  hours, 
And  light  all  the  days  of  the  years  to  be. 
January  21st. 


WHEN  THE  SUMMER  DIES. 

I  shall  miss  you,  love,  in  the  coining  days, 

When  the  summer  is  dead; 
I  shall  want  your  help  in  the  lonely  ways 

My  feet  must  tread. 

I  shall  hunger  oft  for  a  kindly  look, 

Or  a  word  low  spoken, 
And  shall  long  again  for  the  clays  that  partook 

Of  love's  sweet  token. 

My  heart  through  the  silence  will  call  you,  dear, 

In  the  days  that  must  fall, 
And  I  know  that  your  own  will  feel  me  a-near 

And  hear  the  call. 

I  shall  know  if  you  answer,  though  none  may  hear 

The  whisper  that  floats 
From  the  far  off  song  that  must  dry  my  tears 

With  its  faithful  notes. 


TWILIGHT    ECHOES.  71 

I  shall  know,  be  it  morn  or  eventide 

When  the  echoes  wake, 
For  my  heart  in  its  beating  will  stop  to  hide 

The  love  it  will  take. 


MILE-STONES. 

Another  birthday  greets  thee,  love, 
Wherein  to  wish  thee  well; 

Another  dawn  upon  the  marge 
Of  Time's  broad  circling  swell, 

Across  whose  margin  could  I  write 
All  that  its  hours  could  hold, 

The  fay's  rich  gifts  could  scarcely  vie 
With  the  joys  it  should  enfold. 

Within  the  present,  now  thine  own, 
No  shadow  should  abide; 

The  future  should  all  cloudless  be, 

And  fair  life's  eventide. 
January  21,  1SSO. 


TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 


REVERIES. 

There's  a  gloom  that  hovers  o'er  me 
While  I  sit  and  muse  alone  ; 

There's  a  sadness  lingers  near  me 
Wherever  I  may  roam. 

In  the  busy  haunts  of  pleasure, 
Through  the  solitude  of  night, 

In  the  coming  hours  of  leisure, 
In  the  misty  soft  twilight, 

Still  pursues  this  blighting  sorrow 
That  crushed  my  joyous  heart 

In  the  days  when  each  to-morrow 
Seemed  for  me  a  happy  part. 


Ah!  musings  of  my  mother, 
Of  an  angel  form  that  fled ! 

Ah!    dreams  that  clasp  and  cover 
The  faces  of  our  dead! 

Beyond  you  in  the  waking, 
Away  from  sorrow's  night, 

When  freed  from  earthly  aching, 
Our  hearts  shall  find  the  light. 


TWILIGHT   ECHOES.  73 


HEART-ACHE. 

I  could  not  speak  with  your  face  so  near, 
Though  I  knew  the  summer  days  would  sleep; 

My  words  would  form,  and  falter  and  fall 
Unspoken,  because  my  heart  would  weep. 

Do  you  think,  in  the  days  that  drifted  by, 
With  only  the  music  your  sing-ing  wrought, 

That  I  loved  you  less,  though  the  songs  were  few, 
When  love  was  the  song  your  singing  brought? 

Your  precious  gifts  I  keep  in  sight; 

Their  treasured  sweetness  mutely  tells 
Of  a  love  that  was  mine,  mine  only,  dear, 

Till  I  missed  the  music  of  fairy  bells. 

Life's  path  is  short,  love's  way  is  long; 

'Twill  reach  beyond  the  summer  days 
When  our  lips  are  still,  and  our  hands  are  clasped, 

And  our  tired  feet  have  learned  other  ways. 


74  TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 


MAY  BLOSSOMS. 

These  buds  and  blossoms  that  I  send  you,  dear, 
The  fragrance  of  the  summer  hours  enfold; 

May  all  that's  brightest,  best  within  the  year 
Lie  hidden  underneath  the  sweets  they  hold. 

Born  of  the  sunshine  and  the  soft  south  wind, 
I  send  them  with  a  greeting  wTarm  and  true; 

May  every  blossom  bear  a  tender  thought 
In  all  the  balmy  sweets  they  take  to  you. 


WHEN   DO  YOU  THINK  OF  ME  MOST? 

When  do  you  think  of  me  most,   dear, 

Through  all  the  hours  of  day? 
Is  it  when  the  morning's  rosy  light 

Is  chasing  the  shadows  away? 

Do  I  come  to  you  then,   or  do  I  wait 

Till  the  noontide's  drowsy  hour, 
Climbing  the  stairs  of  your  fancy,  love, 

In  your  day-dream's  castle  tower? 


TWILIGHT   ECHOES.  75 

Perchance  when  the  day  is  dying,  dear, 

Your  spirit  encircles  mine, 
And  welcomes  me  most  in  the  gloaming,  sweet, 

When  the  day  and  night  combine. 


TO  THE  PICTURE  OF  LONGFELLOW'S 
CHILDREN. 

Grouped  in  a  trio  before  me 

Three  faces  sweet  and  fair : 
"Grave  Alice  and  laughing  Allegra, 

And  Edith,  with  golden  hair," 

Look  out  from  the  halo  of  childhood 

Into  these  eyes  of  mine — 
Three  gems  of  rarest  promise 

Decking  a  poet's  shrine. 

Three  faces  aglow  with  sunshine 
From  the  cloudless  sky  of  youth, 

Telling  the  first  sweet  story 
From  the  years  of  love  and  truth. 

Three  jewels  of  priceless  value 
For  a  poet's  heart  to  wear  : 
"  Grave  Alice  and  laughing  Allegra, 
And  Edith,  with  golden  hair." 


76  TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 


INTUITION. 

I  looked  on  the  moon  at  its  full, 
The  moon  that  looked  down  on  me, 

In  response  to  the  many  sweet  fancies 
My  heart  was  sending  to  thee. 

And  I  wondered,  as  upward  they  circled, 
If  thy  soul  had  power  to  see, 

And  could  read  from  the  face  of  fair  Luna 
The  fancies  there  written  by  me. 

If  it  did,  and  the  moon  told  truly, 
"What  answer  did'st  thou  send  me?" 

Ah  !    deary,  the  moonbeams  told  it, 

The  message:    "I'm  thinking  of  thee." 
November  16,  1SSO. 


SING  OF  THE  FLOWERS. 

The  sunshine  is  kissing  with  warm,  glad  light 
Our  eyelids  to  waking  from  winter's  long  night 
The  dewdrops  are  waiting  a  chrism  to  place 
In  jewels  of  splendor  on  garments  of  grace. 


TWILIGHT   ECHOES.  77 

The  south  wind  is  calling,,  we  know  he's  a-near  ; 
We  wait  his  caresses  to  welcome  us  here  ; 
Fair  blossoms  we '  11  scatter  of  purple  and  gold, 
And  the  earth  shall  rejoice  with  the  incense  we  hold. 

Earth's  stars  we  are  called,  shining  under  the  skies, 
Lighting  meadow  and  mountain  with  rainbow  dyes, 
Shedding  brightness  and  beauty  with  lessons  of  peace 
That  shall  cling  to  the  earth  when  our  blossoms  shall  cease. 

Then  welcome  us  back  from  our  slumber  and  dreams  ; 
We  are  born  of  the  sunshine,  we  bring  you  its  beams  ; 
In  daffodil  splendor,  and  violet  bloom, 
We  brighten  the  earth  and  banish  its  gloom. 


PILGRIMAGE. 

When  first  our  feet  are  placed  on  Life's  broad  pathway, 

Fair  flowers,  molded  by  a  master-hand, 
Scattered  broadcast  where  e'er  our  footsteps  wander, 

Illume  the  pathway  to  the  silent  land. 

As  on  we  further  tread,  the  heart  grows  'wildered, 
Seeking  an  outlet  from  a  labyrinth  wild  ; 

The  flowers  that  bloomed  so  tenderly  at  dawning, 
At  eve  with  thorns  will  wound  the  weary  child. 


78  TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 

The  warm,  quick  throb  that  in  our  pulses  lingers 
Tells  but  the  story  of  the  heart's  unrest, 

Speaks  but  the  yearning  of  the  tired  pilgrim 
To  reach  the  shining  "  Islands  of  the  blest.  " 

And  as  we  wait,  the  mists  of  eve  grow  fainter, 
While  through  the  haze  there  floats  a  golden  light, 

Pointing  the  spirit  with  an  unseen  finger 
Out  of  the  shadow  unto  the  shining  height. 


UNATTAINED. 

"We  are  always  living  in  hope, 

We  are  ever  looking  afar, 
We  are  always  peering  through  darkness 

For  the  light  of  our  favorite  star. 

Sometimes  we  catch  glimmers  of  brightness 
Through  rifts  in  the  clouds  of  our  night, 

And  it  seems  that  the  morning  is  breaking 
With  gladness,  and  beauty,  and  light. 

And  so,  to  some  hearts  it  comes  laden, 
But  to  others,  so  burdened  with  tears, 

That  the  light  of  their  lives  seems  hidden 
In  the  cloud  of  their  sorrowing  years. 


TWILIGHT   ECHOES.  79 

But  'tis  ever  to  hope  through  our  weeping, 
Though  the  darkness  of  night  covers  all, 

And  the  morn  of  our  lives  still  finds  us 
Buried  deep  in  the  folds  of  its  pall. 


INCOMPLETENESS. 

Out  of  our  lives  we  miss  some  note, 
Something  of  melody  fails  us  here ; 

Over  the  heart-strings  floats  a  mist, 
Out  of  the  music  falls  a  tear. 

Something  of  melody  out  of  the  song, 
From  the  tremulous  notes  of  the  old  refrain 

Something  of  weariness  drifted  in, 
Something  very  akin  to  pain 

Comes  with  the  scent  of  the  dewy  cowslips, 
Blown  from  the  meadows  all  a-bloom, 

Lives  in  the  breath  of  the  sweet  red  clover 
Drifted  in  silence  across  the  gloom. 

Over  the  music,  and  buds,  and  blossoms, 
A  shadow  falls  that  closely  clings, 

A  something  very  akin  to  sorrow, 
A  discord  that  trembles  amid  the  strings. 


80  TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 


SONNET. 

When,  from  your  earth-dream  to  that  other  life, 
Touched  by  some  soft-palmed  seraph,  you  shall  wake, 
When  Heaven's  fair  splendor  on  your  soul  shall  break, 

Far  from  the  babble  of  earth's  jarring  strife, 

In  that  new  clime,  with  radiant  glory  rife, 
Will  you,  amid  such  joy,   once  long  to  take 
My  heart  within  your  clasp,  to  soothe  the  ache, 

Left  captive  in  its  clay,  and  moaning  for  your  sake  ? 

It  may  be  you  will  miss  some  low,  sweet  word, 
And  stoop  to  reach  the  love  that  once  was  yours, 

Before  your  soul  had  listened  for  and  heard 
That  sweeter  music  floating  down  that  lures 

The  spirit  from  its  clay,  whose  fetters  gird 
Only  for  a  space  the  soul  that  clay  endures. 


LINES  TO  G.  H.  C. 

The  sweet  summer-time,  with  its  fair  June  roses 
And  sweet-scented  blossoms,  lies  dead  at  our  feet, 

But  robed  like  a  queen,  with  pale  hands  folded, 
In  purple  and  gold  for  a  winding-sheet. 


TWILIGHT   ECHOES.  81 

The  overblown  roses,  that  fell  from  her  clasping 
Lie  on  her  heart  with  a  meaning  untold — 

All  that  is  left  for  the  heart  that  is  silent, 
An  incense  that  falls  over  purple  and  gold. 

Let  not  the  roses  of  life  droop  and  wither, 

With  all  of  their  tenderness  left  unsaid, 
Ere  the  summer-time  dies,  with  its  passionate  longing, 

And  the  heart  cease  to  hope  when  the  summer  is  dead. 


MY  BOAT. 

I  built  myself  a  magic  boat 

That  drifted  out  to  sea, 
Bearing  away  on  the  wavelets'  float 

All  that  was  dear  to  me. 

It  danced  and  rocked  on  the  ocean  wave 
As  the  winds  blew  light  and  free  ; 

The  white  sails  sped  to  some  ocean  cave, 
And  my  boat  was  hid  from  me. 

It  will  never,  Oh !  never,  come  back  to  me, 

And  the  waves  a  secret  keep  ; 
Far  down  its  treasure  lies  hid  in  the  sea., 

'Neath   the  ocean  mosses  deep. 


82  TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 

And  the  sea-weed  green  waves  over  it  all, 
While  the  salt-sands  heave  and  moan 

For  the  treasure  sunk  fathoms  beyond  recall- 
For  the  bark  that  was  all  my  own. 


WE  TWO. 

Once  in  a  summer  not  long  gone, 
We  two  made  dreams  for  golden  weather, 

We  two  clasped  hands  and  sat  us  down 
Beside  the  summer  days  together. 

The  air  a  thousand  perfumes  bore 
From  meadow-lands  afar  and  near, 

The  woods  a  thousand  anthems  sung, 
So  well  they  knew  the  summer  near, 

The  sweet  June  days,  when  roses  bloom 
And  daisies  show  their  golden  hearts, 

When  nature  seems  a-tune  with  man, 
And  man  in  tune  with  nature's  arts. 

But  clouds  lay  hid  within  the  days, 
And  storms  behind  the  sunny  weather, 

Our  hands  unclasped,  might  came  between, 
And  severed  hearts  so  bound  together. 


TWILIGHT    ECHOES.  83 


MRS.  BROWNING. 

And  she,  the  magic  minstrel,  still  sings  on; 
The  echo  of  her  melody  flows  in 
On  every  wind  that  sighs,  and  o'er  the  din 
Of  earth  the  low  mysterious  music  rings  on 
Hearts  athirst  for  love,  her  mystic  Eon. 
The  tuneful  hand  that  swept  love's  lyre  lies  deep  in 
Dust;    yet  earth  is  filled  with  strains  JSolian, 
Still  trembling  with  the  fire  of  life's  vibration, 
Struck  from  the  harp  that  only  knew  her  touch. 
A-down  the  infinite  float  new  anthems,  ringing 
Clearly  above  the  tones  of  moan  and  mirth ; 
Earth's  choristers  are  mute  while  hearing  such, 
And  seraphs,  'neath  their  palm-trees  sweetly  singing, 
Hear  naught  more  sweet  than  notes  she  left  to  earth. 


VIOLETS. 

TO  MADGE. 

Faded,  and  yet  so  fragrant, 
Crushed,  and  faded,  and  dead, 

Yet  fragrant  of  happy  memories 
In  the  faintest  breath  they  shed. 


TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 

Pressed  and  kept  for  the  love's  sake 

Hid  in  their  tiny  leaves, 
Forming  the  thread  so  golden 

In  the  loom  where  memory  weaves. 

Laden  with  the  melody 
Of  voices  that  are  no  more, 

Fraught  with  the  music  sweeping 
The  heart-strings  o'er  and  o'er. 

Sad  music  as  it  rises 

In  sobs  from  the  faded  flowers, 
Sad  music  in  its  wailing 

For  the  hearts  no  longer  ours. 

Oh!  pale  and  fragrant  flowerets, 

Ye  waken  from  their  sleep 
Bright  dreams,  with  shadows  mingled 

From  out  the  misty  deep. 


HOW? 

How  shall  I  fashion  a  song  from  the  summer, 
Waken  sweet  notes  from  days  that  are  dead, 

Bring  back  the  scent  of  the  sweet  June  roses, 
Call  back  the  music  of  sweet  words  said? 


TWILIGHT   ECHOES.  I 

How  shall  I  call  again  out  from  the  shadows 
Long  sunny  days,  when  the  sunsets  grew  red, 

Hours  when  the  shadows  grew  long  on  the  hillsides, 
Hiding  the  valleys  when  daylight  had  fled? 

Tread  through  the  corridors  love  has  so  hallowed, 
Waken  the  harp  upon  memory's  walls, 

Note  upon  note  from  chamber  to  chamber 
Echo  sweet  music  through  memory's  halls. 

List!    How  it  sings  of  the  blossoming  June-time, 
The  summer  that  lingered  but  could  not  stay, 

Lovingly  lingered  in  sweet  orchard  closes, 
Left  in  the  woodlands  a  blessing  for  aye. 

Thus  do  I  fashion  a  song  from  the  summer, 
A  soulful  song  from  the  summer  that  died, 

From  the  melody  left  in  the  heart  of  the  valleys, 
And  dreams  that  flow  in  with  the  eventide. 


HER  PORTRAIT. 

Darling  May, 
Light  of  day, 
Chasing  shadows  far  away! 


86  TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 

With  surprise 
From  brownest  eyes 
Where  a  love-light  ever  lies! 

Holding  looks, 
Like  meadow  brooks, 
Where  the  sunshine  finds  the  nooks! 

In  her  face 
A  tender  grace 
Leads  one  captive,  to  a  place 

Near  her  heart, 
To  share  a  part 
Never  found  in  other  mart. 

How  to  tell 
The  magic  spell 
She  wields,  in  winning  hearts  so  well, 

Ask  the  flowers 
In  the  bowers 
Why  the  sunshine  and  the  showers 

Ope  their  eyes 
To  sunny  skies — 
There  the  secret  sweetly  lies! 


TWILIGHT    ECHOES.  87 

True  and  sweet 
The  looks  you'll  meet, 
If  she  turn  your  face  to  greet. 

Faith  renewing, 
Ever  doing 
All  the  lips  could  tell  in  wooing. 

True  and  tried, 
She's  sweetest  guide; 
Her  love  will  crown  life's  eventide. 

One  could  never 
Wish  to  sever 
From  her  heart  for  aye  and  ever. 


POND  LILIES. 

Oh,  lilies,  fair  starlings,  ye  hold  me  in  thrall ! 

Your  magic  uncurtains  the  past ; 
Ye  bear  me  memories  sweeter  than  dreams, 

Such  dreams  as  may  not  last. 


TWILIGHT    ECHOES. 

» 

Ah!    fairy  touch  of  a  wand  unseen 
From  petals*  now  faded  and  dead! 

Mute  singers,  ye  waken  a  melody  new 
In  a  heart  whence  the  music  had  fled 

Of  first  fair  days  when  love  awoke 
In  the  heart  with  a  new-born  joy 

A  memory  of  reeds  by  a  river's  brink — 
A  boat, —  a  girl,— a  boy, — 

Green  lily-pads  with  their  freighted  bloom 

That  dimpled  the  waters,  cool, 
And  the  mossy  banks  where  we  told  our  love 

Beside  the  silvery  pool. 

Oh,  fair  pond  lilies!    Who  fashioned  the  spell 

That  binds  with  a  music  low? 
Would  ye  could  hold  me  fettered  for  aye 

With  my  love  of  a  long  ago! 


TO 


Deal  no  unkind  or  cruel  blow 

To  wound  the  human  heart, 
For  years  may  come  and  years  may  go, 

It  still  retains  the  smart. 


TWILIGHT   ECHOES.  89 

Though  time  may  heal,  it  leaves  a  scar 

Which  yields  to  every  breath; 
It  trembles  with  the  slightest  jar, 

And  vibrates  unto  death. 

It  gives  sad  music  to  the  world 

When  once  its  strings  are  broken, 
It  yields  a  wail  when  its  chords  are  swept 

By  a  word  unkindly  spoken. 

It  echoes  the  breath  in  anger  hurled, 
And  breathes  to  the  night  its  cries, 

And  e'en  in  dreams  its  secret  grieving 
Betrays  itself  in  sighs. 


A  CHRISTMAS  GREETING. 

In  the  pearly  hours  of  dawning, 
Between  the  gray  and  blue, 

A  thought  was  born 

For  Christmas  morn, 
And  the  thought,  dear,  was  of  you. 

I  thought  of  the  gifts  that  others 
Would  fashion  with  dainty  grace, 


90  TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 

With  greetings  born 
For  Christmas  morn 
That  time  could  ne'er  efface. 

And  I  thought  of  the  gift  I'd  send  you, 
'Twas  one  I'd  sent  before, 

When  Christmas  morn 

Was  sweetly  born, 
A  Christmas-tide  of  yore. 

But  take  the  gift  I  send  you, 
Though  not  a  work  of  art, 

For  Christmas  morn 

Just  newly  born — 
I  simply  send  my  heart. 


HER  ROOM. 

A  sound  like  notes  at  dawning, 
From  song  of  distant  birds, 

Comes  floating  down  the  silence, 
A  song  of  two  sweet  words: 

Two  words — to  wake  from  dreaming, 
Of  palms  and  distant  seas, 

Of  blooms  of  purple  heather 
And  scent  of  flowery  leas: 


TWILIGHT   ECHOES.  91 

Two  words — to  break  my  slumbers 

From  dreamy  night  to  day, 
A  magic  song  to  charm  me, 

To  make  November  May: 

"Her  Boom!"    What  haven  like  it? 

A  refuge  of  delight; 
Xo  clouds  abide  within  it, 

Her  sunshine  makes  it  bright. 


INDIAN  SUMMER. 

A  haze  on  the  land,  and  a  dream  on  the  heart, 
A  silence  of  mist  on  the  hillside  brown, 

A  rosy  light  through  the  twinkling  mist, 
A  drowsy  air  o'er  a  sleepy  town; 

A  rosy  mist  enwrapping  the  days, 
"The  calm,  mild  days"  that  autumn  holds, 

Bringing  the  summer  again  to  our  hearts, 
And  hiding  it  there  in  its  rosy  folds; 

A  "Lotus  Land"  where  we  sit  us  down 
On  the  golden  sands  to  eat  arid  dream; 

We  sit  us  down  where  the  tired  fields, 
And  the  weary  woods,  and  the  singing  stream 


92  TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 

Have  rest  from  toil  as  we  who  sing 

Thro'  the  "Summer  of  Saints"  that  crowns  the  year 
With  its  sunny  hours  and  amber  skies, 

And  all  that  a  summer  holds  so  dear. 

A  "Lotus  Land,"  and  the  dreamers  we, 
Resting  from  toil  on  the  golden  sands, 

Bringing  us  nearer  the  magic  gate 
That  leads  our  hearts    to  the  sunset  lands. 


SEEDLINGS. 

Among  the  relics  of  by-gone  days 
Lay  seedlings  garnered  by  tired  hands; 

A  summer  slept  in  the  wee  brown  bits. 
Waiting  to  tell  of  sunny  lands. 

A  blushing  bloom  lay  hid  in  the  dark, 
A  prescient  fragrance  of  flowery  May 

Slept  through  the  hours  of  a  starless  night, 
Awaiting  the  sunshine  and  glory  of  day. 

Fair  visions  were  dreamed  of  a  blossoming  grace, 
While  they  held  the  secret  still  unsung 

Of  ferns,  and  mosses,  and  woodland  streams, 
Of  mountain  heights  when  the  year  was  young; 


TWILIGHT   ECHOES.  93 

Till  the  sunlight  touched  with  its  magic  wand 

The  sleeping  bits  with  a  tender  ray, 
And  kissed  to  life  from  the  winter  of  sleep 

The  spring-time  and  fragrance  of  flowery  May. 


BIRTHDAY  FLOWERS. 

A  message  within  the  folded  leaves, 

A  secret  hid  in  the  petals  fair, 
A  signet  pressed  'neath  purple  wings, 

A  seal  iny  soul  must  ever  wear; 

A  dear  remembrance  fitly  hidden 
My  heart  will  find  in  the  blossoms  gay, 

A    fragrance    of  thought  in  the  sweetness  sleeping, 

An  incense  of  love  to  cherish  for  aye. 
March  6th. 


TO  MRS. 


All  through  the  hours  of  this  quaint  morn 
A  fairy  song  comes  faintly  borne, 
Telling  my  heart,  in  love's  own  way, 
Of  a  Some  One  who  strayed  into  life  one  d 


94  TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 

Some  one  whose  coming  made  glad  the  earth, 
While  old  Saint  Valentine  sung  at  her  birth; 
Some  one  to  scatter  the  sunshine  and  flowers, 
Some  one  to  brighten  the  darkest  hours, 

Waked  to  the  light  one  gladsome  day, 
And  hid  in  her  heart  the  blossoms  of  May, 
Keeping  them  fresh  for  the  years  to  be, 
And  drifting  their  sweets  in  a  song  to  me. 
February  14tb. 


SAINT  VALENTINE. 

This  curious  date  of  Cupid's  chart 
Was  graven  once  on  a  maiden's  heart, 

In  the  days  when  love  was  young, 
And  ever  since,  as  the  year  rolls  round, 
With  maidens  all  this  date  is  found 

With  the  song  that  love  first  sung. 

"From  me  to  thee,  O  faithful  heart, 
Forever  thine  till  death  us  part, 

Forever,  ever  thine!" 
Through  all  the  world  this  self-same  day 
Is  ringing  still;  this  self-same  lay 

Still  sings  Saint  Valentine. 


TWILIGHT   ECHOES.  95 


A  DREAM  RECALLED. 

As  'tween  the  silent  hours  of  day  and  dawn 
My  spirit  lay  within  the  hush  of  sleep, 

In  that  pale  twilight  ere  the  night  had  gone, 
And  day  trod  down  the  darkness  with  her  feet. 

As  one  by  one  the  golden  stars  grew  pale 
"Within  the  ether's  dim  expanse  of  blue, 

Ere  dawn  had  broke  the  night's  mysterious  vail, 
Into  my  soul  a  dream  came  shining  through. 

Within  the  borders  of  that  pale  shadow-land 
My  spirit  viewed  you,  sitting  midst  a  throng 

Of  white-winged  seraphs,  and  with  lifted  hand 
Beckoning  me  near  to  hear  the  seraph's  song. 

Sweet  music  floated  like  a  distant  murmur, 
And  the  song  I  heard  was  chanted  soft  and  low: 

"We  are  the  guardian  angels  whose  love  enfolds  her. 
To  shield  and  comfort  her  while  here  below." 

Vainly  I  tried  to  enter  at  the  portal, 
In  vain  my  empty  arms  reached  out  to  you; 

There  seemed  no  room  for  any  form  of  mortal 
Save  yours,  whereon  I  looked,  while  softer  grew 


96  TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 

Those  notes  of  love  and  tenderness  that  drew  me 
Closer,  but,  ah,  too  far  to  touch  your  hand! 

Yet  waiting,  all  expectant,  for  a  voice  to  lead  me 
Close  to  your  side  amid  that  guardian  band. 

Amid  the  silence,  from  my  weary  heart 
Aloud  I  told  my  sorrow  to  the  night: 

"She  has  so  many,   alone  I  must  depart!" 
When,  lo!  from  out  the  dream  your  love  brought  light. 


TO  C.  C.  H.  AT  SEA. 

Break  now  the  seal  of  greeting, 
Sweet  friend  upon  the  sea; 

Unfold  from  out  the  darkness 
The  thoughts  I  send  to  thee. 

Though  last,  I  pray  you  count  me 
Not  least  among  the  throng, 

Whose  notes  across  the  silence 
Now  wake  to  friendship's  song. 

Life's  fairest  benedictions 

I  sing  thee  evermore, 
"Bon   voyage'"   on  the  waters 

That  stretch  from  shore  to  shore. 


TWILIGHT   ECHOES.  97 

The  sea  that  now  divides  us 

Keeps  only  hands  apart, 
No  boundless  sweep  of  ocean 

Can  sever  heart  from  heart. 

Nor  times  nor  seasons  alter 

The  love  of  friend  for  friend, 
The  bond  that  brightens  ever, 

Abiding  to  the  end. 


SOMEBODY  LOVES  ME  IN  DREAMS. 

Yes,  somebody  loves  me  in  dreams, 
And  I  fancy  your  heart  could  tell 

Who  it  is  that  calls  me  "Darling," 
Who  it  is  that  loves  me  so  well. 

But  the  name  I  never  will  mention, 
For  I've  strictly  promised  to  keep 

This  pretty  secret  of  dreamland 
Where  no  one  but  I  may  peep. 

For  the  welcome  of  loving  smiles 
And  words  that  are  tender  and  true, 

With  sometimes  the  clasp  of  a  soft,  warm  palm, 
And  a  kiss  to  banish  life's  rue. 


98  TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 

How  strange  and  sweot  to  be  loved! 

To  be  loved  as  in  fancy  it  seems, 
To  know  that  you're  somebody's  darling, 

Though  somebody  loves  but  in  dreams; 

To  feel  that  life  is  all  sunshine, 
With  nothing  to  banish  its  beams, 

To  drink  at  the  sweetest  of  fountains, 
Though  only  drinking  in  dreams. 


"THREE-SCORE  AND  TEN." 

It  seems  but  yester  e'en 

Since  youth  and  I  kissed  lips 
Across  life's  sunny  stream. 

Lightly  we  kissed,  nor  wept 

At  parting  so  forever, 
As  on  the  river  swept. 

In  vain  I  call:    "Come  back, 

My  sunny,  sunny  youth, 
Across  life's  frozen  track!" 

The  weary  years  have  flown 

That  drifted  us  apart, 
And  I  am  left  alone. 


TWILIGHT   ECHOES.  99 

With  three-score  years  and  ten, 

And  youth  forever  fled, 
My  days  go  sadly  on. 

Waiting  the  twilight's  beam, 
"I  lay  me  down  to  sleep," 
And  cross  life's  troubled  stream. 


FOREVER, 

Forever,  and  forever! 
Long  covenant  to  make, 
For  hearts  of  clay, 
To  bravely  say: 

"Naught  can  our  faith  e'er  break 
Forever,  and  forever." 

Yet  hearts  that  love  sing  thus 
Love's  lullaby  complete; 
We  say  and  sing, 
And  offerings  bring 
Close  to  our  idol's  feet, 
Whose  love  so  clings  to  us. 

Forever,  and  forever! 
WThen  the  years  are  laid  to  sleep, 


100  TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 

As  the  ages  go, 
I  will  love  you  so, 
Love's  covenant  to  keep 
Forever,  and  forever! 


IN  VAIN. 

We  look   in  vain  for  the  roses 
That  bloomed  in  the  hedges  low, 

In  vain  through  the  scentless  meadows, 
The  west  winds  softly  blow. 

They  can  not  waken  the  flowers 
From  their  deep  and  silent  sleep, 

Where  they  fell  in  their  quiet  beauty 
In  the  glen  and  on  the  steep. 

With  their  fragrance  departed  the  summer, 
And  their  bloom  that  gladdened  the  hills ; 

The  west  wind  sighs  in  his  searching 
For  the  flowers  that  fringed  the  rills. 

The  vines  and  the  faded  blossoms. 

That  lie  so  mute  at  our  feet, 
Are  only  the  sad  reminders 

Of  flowers  that  once  were  sweet. 


TWILIGHT   ECHOES.  101 


DE  PROFUNDIS. 

Only  the  wail  of  an  erring  human  heart 
Borne  by  the  ether  wave  to  touch  thine  ear; 

Why  close  the  portals  of  thine  inner  self? 
Why  stoop  not  low  thy  kindred's  grief  to  hear, 

Calling  from  out  the  deep,  "For  mercy's  sake, 
Bear  with  me  yet  a  little  longer  here; 

Crush  not  to  earth  the  bruised  and  broken  vine, 
Trailing  so  low  in  anguish  and  in  fear?" 

Call  from  its  source  the  word  of  pity  blest; 

Ope  the  warm  fountain  of  tender  human  tears; 
Hearts  that  are  aching  needs  must  slowly  break; 

Ah!    pluck  the  thorns  from  out  the  weary  years. 

Give  from  thy  store  of  love  some  word  of  peace; 

Thy  gift  shall  prove  a  blessing  unto  thee 
In  hours  of  darkness,  when  the  shadows  fall, 

A  light  for  all  the  years  that  are  to  be. 


SONG   WORDS. 


DRIFTING. 

TO    A.    E.    B. 

Drifting  slowly,  slowly  drifting 
Through  the  shadowy  realm  of  years, 

Some  are  drifting  through  the  sunlight, 
Others  through  a  mist  of  tears, 
Bitter,  blinding  tears. 

Drifting  through  the  filmy  vapors, 
Reaching  for  the  sunny  rays, 

Dreaming  as  they're  slowly  wafted, 
Dreaming  of  the  happy  days, 
Lost  and  happy  days. 

Oh !    how  sadly,  vainly  calling 
For  the  days  that  are  no  more! 

Aching  hearts  are  holding  only 
Echoes  from  the  fading  shore, 
Echoes,  nothing  more! 


104  TWILIGHT    ECHOES. 


ANSWERED. 

Oh,  Jamie,  the  breezes  are  blowing 

My  wishes  far  over  the  sea! 
Do  you  hear  them,  my  Jamie?    They 're  saying, 

"Come  back  to  your  own  by  the  Dee!" 
The  hills  miss  your  music  and  murmur, 

From  their  purple  there  floats  down  to  me 
The  song  that  the  valley  is  singing 

To  the  river  that  flows  to  the  sea. 

The  brightness  has  gone  from  the  morning, 

And  the  days  overshadowed  will  be, 
Till  we  meet  where  we  parted,  my  Jamie, 

On  the  banks  of  the  sweet  River  Dee. 
Oh,  Jamie,  alone  I  am  weeping, 

Your  answer  has  flown  back  to  me; 
"  We  shall  meet  as  we  parted,  my  darling, 

But  not  on  the  banks  of  the  Dee!" 


LULLABY  — REST. 

Hushaby,  hushaby,  softly  we  sing, 
Hushaby,  eventide,  slumber  will  bring- 
Bird  in  the  downy  nest, 


TWILIGHT   ECHOES.  105 

Babe  on  the  mother's  breast, 
Sweetly  earth's  weary  rest- 
Under  night's  wing. 

Hushaby,  heart  of  mine,  slumber  will  come; 
Patience,  the  eventide  comes  to  us  all ; 

Sunset  and  lullaby, 

Clasped  hands  and  hushaby, 

Silent  the  heart  cry, 
Sweet — rest  for  all. 


BIRD  AND  WIND. 

Oh,  wind  of  the  South, 
Blow  gently  this  way, 
Gently,  this  way! 

Oh,  nightingale,  sing  what  my  lover  would  say, 

Sing  it,  I  pray; 
And  trust  to  the  south  wind  to  waft  it  this  way, 

"Waft  me  the  words  of  his  mouth! 
My  heart  waits  the  message;   oh,    make  no  delay, 

Bird  and  wind  of  the  South! 


106  TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 


DONALD. 

Oh,  list  to  me,  dear! 

From  afar  you  are  near; 
You  come  to  my  dreams  on  the  wings  of  sleep; 

You  follow  the  wake 

That  my  day-dreams  make 
Over  the  span  of  the  mystic  deep. 

You  sit  at  my  side, 

And  naught  can  betide, 
Though  a  ghostly  hand  I  clasp  ere-while, 

For  I  feed  on  the  dew 

Of  a  love  so  true, 
Xo  shadow  can  darken  the  light  of  your  smile. 


WHEN  THE  YEAR  GROWS  OLD. 

He  left  me  when  the  summer, 

Grown  tired  of  her  reign, 
Laid  down  her  royal  scepter 

Amid  the  golden  grain; 
When  the  reapers  with  their  sickles 

Garnered  up  the  autumn's  gold. 
He  left  a  troth-kiss  on  my  lips, 

And  softly  sang  the  story  old. 


TWILIGHT    ECHOES.  107 

"And  fare  you  well,  my  own, 

A  short  farewell,"  sang  he; 
"Again  the  year  grows  old, 

I'll  be,  my  love,   with  thee." 
But  thrice  the  autumn's  gold  has  burned, 

And  thrice  the  year  has  tired  grown, 
And  yet  my  love  comes  not  to  me, 

For  lips  are  still  that  sang  "my  own." 


SAILING. 

There's  a  bark  on  the  deep; 
It  is  sailing  away, 
Sailing  away, 
And  the  moon's  looking  down  with  a  silvery  ray, 

A   silvery  ray, 
On  one  who  is  sailing  far  out  on  the  bay, 

While  mother  and  I  must  weep. 
Oh!    shine  on  his  track  with  the  light  of  day, 
For  father  sails  over  the  deep. 


108  TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 


MY  KING. 

I  had  thought,  with  the  roses  of  June, 
That  my  love  would  come  back  to  me; 

I  had  dreamed  of  two  hearts  atune, 
Floating  out  on  a  summer  sea, 
That  mystical  summer  sea. 

At  gloaming  I  watched  for  the  sail 
That  should  bear  my  love  to  the  shore, 

But  the  sunset's  gold  grew  pale, 
And  the  sea  moaned  "nevermore," 
And  the  cliffs  sighed  "nevermore!" 

Yet  my  heart  from  its  silent  tower 

Is  still  looking  over  the  sea, 
For  my  King,  with  his  magical  power, 

Who  will  some  time  come  back  to   me, 

Bringing  love  and  life  to  me. 


OCEAN   LETTERS. 


TO  K.   D. 

Dear  Kate:  —  I  know  your  fancy 

For  letters  extra  brief, 
And  trust  my  humble  efforts 

Upon  this  tiny  leaf 
May  prove  an  innovation, 

Supplying  all  your  need 
Of  love  and  loyal  friendship 

From  a  small  American  Weed; 
And  among  the  English  flowers 

Your  heart  will  soon  embrace, 
Let  none  efface  the  memory, 

And  none  usurp  the  place 
You've  given  the  humble  blossom 

You  leave  this  side  of  the  sea, 
Nor  break  the  bond  of  friendship 

Your  love  has  forged  for  me. 
From  out  the  vanished  hours, 

Now  hidden  in  the  past, 
An  incense  will  awaken 

From  memories  that  must  last 


110  TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 

As  long  as  life  shall  give  me 

New  days,  and  months,  and  years, 
With  time  for  joy  and  gladness, 

And  the  sadder  time  for  tears— 
A  fragrance  that  will  heighten 

The  joys,  while  joys  abide, 
And  lessen  all  life's  shadows, 

Till  falls  life's  eventide. 
Songs  that  the  heart  may  fashion 

Reflect  the  music  there  ; 
The  sweetness  yours  has  sung  me 

But  makes  my  own  more  fair. 
And  now,  what  time  in  silence 

Your  heart  may  sit  alone, 
Counting  upon  the  ocean 

The  friends  you  call  your  own, 
Turn  back,  my  ocean  rover, 

Turn  heart-warm  to  the   \Vest, 
And  whisper  through  the  stillness 

The  names  you  love  the  best. 
Do  not  forget  the  "  Circle  " 

Your  presence  made  complete 
In  a  fair  New  England  village, 

Where  hearts  shall  hope  to  greet 
The  friend  whose  absence  darkens, 

Whose  coming  will  relight 
The  days  that  must  be  shadowed 

Till  Love's  returning  flight. 


TWILIGHT   ECHOES.  Ill 

And  now,  dear  Kate,  a  message 

To  yours  beyond  the  sea, 
A  message  of  remembrance 
Direct  from  mine  and  me, 

And  to  yourself,  in  closing, 
Find  "  Farewell  "  and  "  God-speed," 

With  love  enough  to  bring  you  back 
To  your  warm  Mends, 

SISTERS  WEED. 

Greenwich,  Conn.    • 


TO  C.  C.   H. 

Dear  "  Neal"  : — When  your  hand  shall  essay  to  unfold 

The  thoughts  which  my  love  herein  has  enrolled, 

As  you  rock  on  the  deep,  may  your  spirit  be  stirred 

With  echoes  from  home  hid  away  in  each  word. 

Look  back  through  the  hours  of  the  long  summer  days, 

And  may  fancy  paint  pictures  to  gladden  your  gaze 

Of  kindred  and  friends  whose  love  and  devotion 

Have  borne  you  companionship  over  the  ocean 

And  will  follow  you  all  through  the  hours  of  each  day 

With  wishes,  heart-warm,  that  will  shine  on  your  way, 

Be  it  over  the  pave  of  a  gay  city  street, 

Or  afar  from  the  sound  of  hurrying  feet, 

Along  the  Rhine  Valley  or  Switzer's  fair  hills, 

By  green  English  meadows  or  Erin's  clear  rills, 


112  TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 

Or  into  the  heart  of  Italia's  dear  bowers, 

Where    the    nightingale   sings   through   the   moonlight   and 

flowers, 

Or  wherever  your  wandering  footsteps  may  lead, 
With  our  love,  dear,  we'll  faithfully  wish  you  "God-speed." 
But  amid  all  the  beauty  of  change  and  surprise, 
Which  may  greet  you  while  dwelling  'neath  far  alien  skies, 
Send  back  to  the  land  and  the  friends  left  behind 
A  memory  of  scenes  your  heart  had  enshrined, 
Ere  you  bade  us  adieu  in  the  "Homo  of  the  free," 
To  wander  awhile  in  the  "  Land  o'er  the  sea." 
Forget  not,  dear  Neal,  the  hours  of  good  cheer 
We  spent  in  a  cottage  while  you  were  anear, 
Our  long,  pleasant  chats  when  the  eventide  fell, 
Our  jolly  late  talks,  till  the  midnight  bell 
Warned  us  both  to  our  slumber  for  sake  of  our  health, 
Or,  as  sages  have  written,  to  get  to  us  wealth  ; 
But,  whatever  the  reason,  we  finished  the  night 
In  slumbers  so  peaceful  we  wakened  as  bright 
As  if  all  the  hours  the  night  calls  her  own 
Had  been  hidden  in  dreams  till  the  shadows  had  flown. 
Then  remember  the  drive  to  "Belle  Haven  beach," 
On  that  morning  of  beauty  beyond  human  speech, 
When  nature,  designing  to  win  us,  complete 
In  her  loveliest  garments  knelt  at  our  feet, 
Beguiling  our  hearts  and  winning  us  quite, 
As  we  sat  on  the  beach  in  the  sand  so  white, 
With  the  tide  coming  in  'neath  the  blue  summer  sky, 


TWILIGHT   ECHOES.  113 

On  that  fair  morn  in  June-time,   dear  Neal,  you  and  I. 
And  again,  when  at  "  Hawthorne,"  what  joy  was  our  own, 
As  we  gathered  the  shells  while  we  talked  quite  alone, 
Looking  out  on  the  bay  which,  in  jest,  we  dubbed  Naples, 
Where  the  waves  kissed   the   shore   lined  with    beeches    and 

maples. 

Do  you  think,  dear,  whatever  new  beauty  may   meet   you, 
You  will  find  dearer  scenes  than  at  home  used  to  greet  you? 
Some  fairer  you'll  find,  perhaps,  but  none  dearer, 
Though  the  skies  may  be  brighter,  the  streams  may  be  clearer. 
There  is  naught  in  the  world,  wherever  you  roam, 
That  can  equal  the  beauty  and  dearness  of  home. 
You  may  walk  by  the  Seine,  and  visit  the  Rhone, 
You  may  view  the  rich  beauty  of  Bois  de  Boulogne, 
Ere  you  seek  pastures  new  on  the  far  Alpine  hills, 
Whose  glory  with  rapture  the  heart  ever  fills, 
Or  your  steps  lead  you  southward  to  Venice  or  Home, 
Ere  your  hearts  and  your  faces  again  turn  to  -home, 
But  turn  your  heart  back  ere  you  reach  the  far  shore, 
For  while  reading  these  lines,  will  your  journey  be  o'er. 
Send  over  the  waters  that  fill  the  deep  sea 
Some  sign  that  "  My  Neal  "  is  thinking  of  me. 
And  now,  with  "  Adieu,"  best  wishes  be  yours, 
On  this  or  on  any  of  life's  varied  tours, 
With  health  and  good  speed  till  the  journey  shall  last, 
An-d  a  harbor  of  safety  to  rest  in  at  last; 
Good  bye,  and  pray  let  not  this  billet  condemn  me, 
But  believe  me,  with  love,  dearest  Neal, 

Your  own  "  EMMIE." 

Greenwich,  Conn. 


114  1  WILIGHT    ECHOES. 


CHRISTMAS  LETTER. 

TO    MISS    X. 

I  have  not  forgotten  my  promise,  Miss  X., 

To  furnish  you  something  direct  from  my  pen, 

And  though  late  in  the  season  some  chronicles  show 

That  the  warmest  thoughts  oft  come  with  the  snow. 

At  least  let  me  hope  that  my  honest  intention 

May  embody  a  sentiment  worthy  of  mention, 

And  that  you,  in  recalling  some  thoughts  of  the  past 

Reflected  in  this,  may  find  one  that  shall  last 

Beyond  all  the  chances  and  changes  of  time. 

Be  it  summer  or  winter,  you  honor  my  rhyme 

With  a  glance  at  its  meaning  quite  worthy  the  theme, 

Of  a  friendship  engendering  the  warmest  esteem. 

Enough,  if  these  lines  shall  prove  how  sincere 

Is  the  memory  I '  ve  kept  and  shall  ever  hold  dear. 

I  have  thought  of  the  days  in  the  summer  gone  by, 

And  wondered  if  ever  again  you  and  I 

Would  meet  and  renew,  in  the  same  pleasant  places, 

The  same  pleasant  talks,  and  see  the  same  faces, 

With  the  circle  unbroken  by  sorrow  or  change, 

And  if  friends  we  knew  then  could  ever  grow  strange. 

Such  fancies  will  come  as  the  seasons  go  round, 

And  we  find  ourselves  dreaming  of  friends  we  have  found 

New  links  in  the  chain  that  bind  hearts  together, 


TWILIGHT    ECHOES.  115 

That  tarnish  nor  rust  not  in  life's  stormy  weather. 

The  Christmas-tide  glory  falls  low  as  I  write, 

But  my  heart  in  its  wishing  looks  up  through  a  light, 

And  sends  o'er  the  distance  that  keeps  us  apart 

The  wish  that  life's  blessings  may  gladden  your  heart. 

Let  me  hope  for  you  ever  no  sorrow  may  trouble  you, 

And  you  find  a  new  link  in  the  love  of 

E.  W. 

Greenwich,  Conn. 


THE  SLEEPING   BEAUTY. 

Many  and  many  long  years  ago, 

Where  the  forest  flowers  were  wont  to  blow 

Within  an  ancient  wood, 
Long  hidden  from  the  waking  world, 
With  trumpet  stilled  and  banner  furled, 
A  grand  old  castle  stood. 

No  sound  within  the  castle  walls, 

No  note  was  echoed  through  the  halls, 

No  sign  of  life  was   heard, 
While  all  without  was  cold  and  still 
As  water  of  a  frozen  rill. 

Nor  grass  nor  leaflet  stirred. 

A  charm  of  fairy  night  and  power 
That  covered  castle,  wall  and  tower, 
At  midnight  on  it   fell, 


116  TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 

Which  doomed  a  hundred  years  of  sleep 
To  seal  in  slumber,  long   and  deep, 
The  court  by  fairy  spell. 

The  cause  of  sucli  enchantment  rare 

Was  wrought  through  Princess,  young  and  fair, 

Within  the  castle  old, 
Who,  dreaming  late  one  winter  night 
Beside  the  ember's  fitful    light, 

Espied  a  key  of  gold, 

Which  quickly  from  the  fire  she    drew, 
And  on  her  ermine  robe  she  threw, 

To  try  the  magic  power. 
Through  distant  halls  of  oaken  floor, 
By  many  a  winding   corridor, 

She  sped  at  midnight  hour. 

And  while   the  king  and  nobles  all 
Within  the  castle's  festive  hall 

The  banquet  hour  were  keeping, 
The  Princess,  on  her  lonely  quest, 
Forgetting  king  and  noble  guest, 

Beguiled  the  hours  of  sleeping. 

And  on  through  many  a  secret  way, 
Deep  hidden   from  the  light  of    day, 
The  magic  key  she  bore, 


TWILIGHT   ECHOES.  117 

Till,  glancing  through  a  gallery  wide 
That    led  to  turret,  she  espied 
An  ancient  studded  door. 

AVithin  the  lock  of  curious  mold 
The  Princess  placed  the  key  of   gold, 

Seeking  the  tower  to  win. 
With  trembling  hand  the  bolt  she  sprung, 
And  loudly   through  the  castle  rung 

The  sound  of  midnight  din. 

Buried  beneath  the  dust  of  years 
The  narrow  stairway   there  appears, 

Leading  to  turret   high, 
Where,  in  the  moonlit  chamber   lone, 
Spinning,  there  sat  a  withered  crone, 

Ne'er  seen  by  mortal  eye, 

Till  on  that  lonely  winter  night, 
Beneath  the  moonbeams  dusty  light, 

The  Princess  first  descried  her 
Engaged  with  distaff,   fleece  and  reel, 
And  spindle  formed  of   burnished  steel, 

That    drew  the  maid  beside  her. 

Who,  gazing,  longed  to  twine  the  thread 
Around  the  spindle's  shining  head 
And  guide  the  skein  so    slender. 


118  TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 

When,  lo!  the  hand  in  haste  to  spin 
Just  touched  the  polished  pointed  pin, 
Which  pierced  the  palm  so  tender. 

Within,  without,   a  silence  deep, 
Borne  on  the  shadowy  wings  of  sleep, 

Wrapt  all  in  close  embrace — 
The  king  and   guest  in  banquet  hall, 
The  restless  steed  within  his  stall, 

The  warder  at  his  place. 

And  on  an  ivory  couch  was  laid, 
In  sleep,  the    Princess,  peerless    maid, 

Beneath  a  silken  cover, 
Where,  softened  to  a  sweet  repose, 
The  snowy  bosom  sunk  and  rose 

In  dreams    of  coming  lover. 

The  pale,  sweet  cuckoo    flowers  blew, 
The  crocus  bloomed,  the  daisies  gre-w, 

The  primrose  blushed  and  died, 
And  still  within  that  castle  old, 
Within  that  grim  and  ancient  hold, 

No  signs  of  life    abide. 

A  hundred  times  the  fragrant  spring 
Silently  folded  its  perfumed  wing, 
A    hundred  summers    waned, 


TWILIGHT   ECHOES.  119 

A  hundred  autumns  poured  their  gold 
Into  earth's  coffers  manifold, 
A  hundred  winters    reigned. 

The  charm  had  spent   its  fatal  power, 
A  Prince  had  dreamed  of  castle  bower 

Wherein  the  Princess  lay, 
And,  mounted  on  a   gallant  steed, 
With  vow  to  "answer  Lady's  need," 

The  Prince  pursued  his  way. 

Resolved  to  ride  without  repose 
Till  on  his  sight  the  castle  rose 

Like  vision  of   his  dream, 
He  journeyed  on  by  day    and    night, 
By  rosy  dawn  and  fading  light, 

Through  vale,  and  mount,  and  stream. 

At  last,  as  in  a  mist,  he  sees 
Above  the  green  of  forest  trees 

The  castle's    ancient  towers, 
And,  pressing  on  through  grasses  dank, 
He  spurs  his  courser's  foaming  flank, 

Through  marsh  and  wildwood  flowers. 

The  golden  beams  of  fading  day 
Gilded  the  battlement  grim  and  gray, 
And  kissed  the  princely  crest, 


120  TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 

As  through  the  arched  and  massive  gate 
The  Prince  rode  on  to  find,  though  late, 
The  object  'of  his   quest. 

With    beating  heart  'neath  shield  of  gold 
Royally  rode  that  knight  of    old 

Into  the  courtyard  lone, 
Where,  echoing  through  the  silent   place, 
The  sound  of  hoof-falls'  measured  pace 

Fell  on  the  courtyard  stone. 

He  leaves  the  court,  he  gains  the  stairs, 
He  seeks  the  "Bower  of  Lady  fair;" 

Through  many  a  wildering  way 
Love  leads;  he  follows  far  and  fast. 
The  chamber  door  is  reached  at  last, 

Love  crowns  the   fading    day. 

Into  the  dimly  lighted  room, 

Where  perfumed  tapers  broke  the  gloom, 

Entered  the  princely  lover. 
The  slumbrous  air   was  softly  stirred, 
Yet  naught  the  sleeping  Princess  heard 

Beneath  the  broidered  cover. 

The   gallant  Knight  stooped  low  to  take 
One  lingering  look  'ere  he  should  break 
The  charm  within  his  keeping. 


TWILIGHT   ECHOES.  1! 

Then  nearer  to  the  peerless  face 
He  leaned,  the  pledge  of    love  to  place 
On  lips  so  fair  in  sleeping. 

The  charm  was  spent,  the  spell  was  broke, 
That  fervent  kiss  the  Princess    woke, 

Love's  touch  aroused  the  sleeper; 
Love's  summons  rang  through  bower  and  hall, 
Love's  echoes  waked  the  slumberers  all, 

From  king  to  lowly  keeper. 

All  waked  as  years  before  all    slept; 
A  moment  broke  what  years  had  kept, 

And  loosed  the  bonds  forever; 
A    dream,  a  kiss,  had  wrought  so  much, 
All  yielded  to  love's  magic  touch, 

And  crowned  love's  brave  endeavor. 


CAPTURE  OF  STONY  POINT  BY  GEN.  WAYNE, 

JULY  10,  1779. 

The  tramp  of  heroes  since  high  noon 
Was  heard  on  mountain  steep  and  through  ravine, 
And  the  dull  echoes  frighted  from  their  lairs 
The  timid  races  of  the  wood  and  brake. 


122  TWILIGHT    ECHOES. 

Onward  they  trod,  nor  wearied  in  the  march 

Through  deep  morass  and    over  pathless  height 

That  lay  'twixt  them  and  victory.    The   summer 

Noon  upon  the  silent  hills  made  all 

The   forests  faint  and  left  the  vales  athirst; 

Yet,  in  those  patriot  hearts  a  Spartan  zeal 

Sustained  and  led  them  through  the  sultry  hours 

Of  that  immortal  day   their  valor  won. 

The  day  was  spent,  and  evening's  grateful  shade 

Covered  the  parched  earth   with  cooling  dews, 

And  o '  er  the  land  a  breezy  incense  bore, 

Refreshing  the  tired  ranks  that  for  a  space 

Halted  amid  the  Hudson's  rugged  steeps 

To  learn  and  do  their  gallant  leader's  will. 

Anon  a  restless  moving  to  and  fro 

Told  that  the  hour  had  come,  and  the  two  columns, 

Formed  for  battle,   advanced  upon  the  foe. 

With  muskets  empty  and  with  bayonets  fixed, 

Silently  they  moved,  unheeding  aught 

That  might  arise  to  bar  the  way  to  victory. 

At  midnight  'neath  the  fortress  walls  they  stood, 

Undaunted  by  the  rising  tide  that   covered 

All  the  marshy  plain.     Upon  the  fort 

The  watchful  sentinel,  pacing  his  quiet   round, 

Heard  naught  but  the  plashing  tide  upon  the  shore, 

Till  on  the  stillness  fell  a  strange  alarm 


TWILIGHT    ECHOES.  123 

As  through  the  palisades  the  patriots  broke, 

Making  a  breach  for  the  ranks  of  liberty. 

A  cry  of  terror  from  the  startled  sentinels 

Echoed  their  fear  upon  the  midnight  air, 

And  roused  the  sleeping  forces  from  their  dreams 

Within  the  silent  fort.    "The  foe!  they  come! 

They  come!"   was  loudly  shouted,  and  the  call  to  arms 

Mingled  with  the  din  of  hurrying  feet  now  entering 

Right  and  left  under  the  fire  of  cannon. 

Shot  and  shell  filled  all  the  night  with  war's 

Dread  sounds.    "On  to  the  fort!  my  brave  men, 

On  to  the  fort!''  rang  out  in  clarion  notes 

From  the  lips  of  noble  Wayne,  cheering  his  men 

To   victor}-.    Into  the  fort  they  swept,  conquering 

Without  a  shot  the  enemy  that  poured  relentless 

Fire  into  their  midst.    But  in  the  flush 

Of  triumph  the  gallant  General,  wounded  by 

A  random  shot,  fell  bleeding  to  the  earth. 

His  faithful  followers,   obedient  to  his  faint 

Command,  now  raised    and    bore   him    to    the   column's 

front, 

Where  by  his  presence  he  might  cheer  and  aid. 
Victor  and  vanquished,  side  by  side  they  stood, 
And  the  deafening  shout  that  rent  the  air  told 
Of  the  patriots'  glory.    And  they  who  fought  and  bled 
Their  altars  to  defend  from  hand  of  alien 


124  TWILIGHT    ECHOES. 

Foe,  won  more  than  soldiers'  guerdon  in  the 
Light  of  bravery,  humanity  and  a  nation's  pride. 
The  years  have  long  since  laid  to  sleep  the  hero 
Whose  name  and  deeds  shall  live  in  every  heart 
That  throbs  beneath  our  sky  of   freedom,  and 
The  generations  yet  to  be  shall  learn 
To  reverence,  with    a  nation's  love,  the  noble 
Name  of  Wayne. 


POEMS    FOR   LITTLE    ONES 


LITTLE  ELSIE  TO  THE  FLOWERS. 

Daisies,   do  the  flowers  know 

When  to  go  to  sleep? 
Do  they  ever  weary 

With  the  watch  they  keep? 
Do  they  know  who  loves  them, 

Do  they  ever  sigh, 
If  no  one  is  sorry 

When  the  roses  die? 

1  am  sure  the  primrose  sweet 

Smiles  and  tries  to  nod; 
So  the  purple  aster 

And  the  golden-rod, 
When   I  step  so  lightly 

In  among  their  leaves ; 
If  I  crush  a  crocus, 

Pretty  violet  grieves. 

80  I  think  the  flowers  know, 

Just  like  me,  the  way 
How  to  shut  their  pretty  eyes 

At  the  close  of  day ; 


T  Wl L IG H T   ECHO L'S . 

And,  like  ine,  they'd  sorrow 

If  no  one  were  nigh 
To  watch  them  through  their  sleeping, 

Or  love  them  when  they  die. 


A  TRUE  STORY  OF  THE   LITTLE  DAUPHIN 
OF  FRANCE. 

Long  years  ago,  when  kings  and  queens 

Kuled  the  proud  court   of  France, 
And  loyal  vassals  bowed  the  knee 

Before  their  monarch's  glance; 
When  wisdom,  with  her  scepter  bright, 

Spread  quiet  through  the  realm, 
Monarch  nor  vassal  dreamed  of  aught 

Their  peace  to  overwhelm, 
Till  fell  the  curse  of  discontent 

Amid  the  lowly  train, 
And  from  a  murmur  of  unrest 

Broke  forth  the  wail  of  pain. 
The  darkest  era  France  e'er  knew 

Stamped  with  a  crimson  shame 
The  glory  of  her  ro3Talt3T, 

The  honor  of  her  name, 
With  riot  and  rebellion 

The  world  can  ne'er  forget. 


TWILIGHT    ECHOES.  127 

When  ruled  King  Louis  and  his  queen, 

Fair  Marie  Antoinette, 
Sovereign  and  subject  shared  alike 

The  ignominious  death 
Who  dared  support  the  tottering  throne 

By  word,   or  act,   or  breath. 
And  ere  the  wrath  of  that  fierce  time 

Its  vengeance  had  allayed, 
The  blood  of  nobles  flowed  in  streams 

And  dyed  the  hands  that  preyed, 
Nor  stopped  they  in  their  loathsome  task, 

Nor  stayed  the  carnage  wild, 
Till  king  and  queen  were  sacrificed 

And  the  name  of  France  defiled. 
Their  little  son,  the  fair  child-prince, 

Torn  from  love's  warmest  clasp, 
Was  placed  within  the  keeping  of 

A  servile  creature's  grasp, 
Whose  chief  delight,  from  day  to  day, 

Was  teaching  grossest  sin, 
And  striving  from  the  path  of  right 

The  little  prince  to  win. 
Who,  often  tempted,  oft  did  yield, 

Yet  oft  the  tempter  spurned, 
For  the  spirit  of  the  noble  boy 

With  the  fire  of  right  still  burned. 
And  when  one  day  the  tempter's  cup 

To  the  captive's  lips  was  held, 


128  TWILIGHT    ECHOES. 

Wearied  with  the  sense  of  shame, 
The  little  heart  rebelled. 

The  princely  hoy  stood  proudly  up, 
As  under  seraph's  wing, 

And  said,   "I  can  not  do  it, 
I  was  born  to  be  a  king!" 


And  so,  dear  children,  each  of  you, 

Like  the  little  prince,  may  claim 
The  honor  of  a  noble  act, 

The  heritage  of  fame. 
If  each,  like  him,  will  bravely  look 

Temptation  face  to  face, 
And  say,  "I  can  not  do  it," 

You  may  wear  a  prince's  grace. 


THE  MOUSE  AND  THE  BEE. 

A  mouse  and  a  bee  were  discussing  one  day, 

In  a  very  unamiable  sort  of  a  way, 

The  virtues  of  each  in  his  own  estimation, 

Of  animal  beauty  and  insect  creation. 

The  sunshine  swept  in  through  the  wide  open  door, 

Where  the  disputants  sat  on  the  warm  oaken  floor 

Of  the  cosy  old  barn,  where  the  horse  and  the  cow 

Had  fed  side  by  side  from  the  sweet-scented  mo\v, 


TWILIGHT   ECHOES.  129 

And  ne'er  had  a  thought  that  could  lead  to  dissension, 

And  utterly  scorned  the  disgrace  of  contention. 

But  the  two  tiny  friends,  as  they  sat  in  the  sun, 

Continued  to  talk  as  at  first  they  begun ; 

They  prated  of  merits  that  each  one  possessed, 

And  pride  was  the  lever  in  each  little  breast. 

"I  have  been,"  said  the  bee,  "over  mountain  and  vale, 

i  have  sailed  on  the  breeze  and  ridden  the  gale; 

I  have  traversed  the  plain  where  the  wild  flowers  blow, 

And  have  lain  in  the  blush  of  the  rose's  deep  glow; 

The  sweets  I  have  tasted  of  each  little  flower 

That  blows  by  the  brook  in  sunshine  and  shower; 

And  the  sights  I  have  seen  would  astonish  you  so, 

You  would  wonder  and  grieve  you  were  made  so  low. 

Just  think  of  the  honor  that's  granted  to  bees, 

Of  going  on  wings  wherever  they  please, 

While  you  must  sit  moping  the  live-long  day, 

And  at  most  can  do  nothing  but  skip  and  play." 

The  shy  little  mouse  was  sadly  confused, 

As  the  bee  smiled  contempt  and  looked  much  amused, 

While  he  waited  to  hear  what  the  mouse  had  to  say 

Before  spreading  his  wings  to  fly  away. 

"  I '  ve  no  doubt,"  said  the  mouse,  "  with  the  aid  of  your  wings 

You  have  been  where  you've   seen   most  wonderful  things; 

But  consider  the  privilege  of  being  a  mouse, 

And  living  at  will  in  a  barn  or  a  house. 

While  the  summer  time  lasts  I  always  stay  here, 

But  hide  in  the  house  as  the  winter  draws  near, 


130  TWILIGHT   ECHOED. 

Where  I  feed  on  the  dainties  that  come  from   the  table, 

Never  heard  of  in  hives  nor  found  in  a  stable; 

And  then,  only  think  how  much  I  must  know 

Of  the  great  busy  world  as  it  moves  to  and  fro; 

For  I  listen  to  all  that  is  talked  of  or  read, 

And  of  course  I  remember  the  most  that  is  said ; 

While  you,  in  your  hive,  can  do  nothing  more 

Than  devour  through  the  winter  your  whole  summer's  store. 

Without  any  use  for  your  fine  pair  of  wings, 

You  must  live  like  the  wasps  and  such  stupid  things." 

"You're  very  conceited,  my  friend,"  said  the  bee, 

"And  the  sauciest  mouse  one  might  wish  to  see; 

I  will  fly  to  the  hive  and  report  to  our  queen 

What  a  miserable,  impudent  creature  I've  seen." 

A  pigeon,  in  passing,  had  heard  the  dispute, 

And  caught  up  the  bee  with  a  sudden  salute, 

Of  "What  a  fine  morsel,  I'm  really  in  luck, 

You  might  have  been  found  by  a  turkey  or  duck." 

So  saying,  he  swallowed  the  vain  little  bee, 

And  quickly  flew  off  to  the  top  of  a  tree. 

In  the  meantime  the  old  tabby  cat  had  sneaked  in 

And  sprang  for  the  mouse,  who  ran  for  the  bin. 

But,  alas!    all  in  vain,  he  had  lingered  too  late, 

And  at  once  fell  a  prey  to  a  most  cruel  fate. 


Had  these  vain  little  creatures  been  doing  their  duty, 
Instead  of  disputing  of  virtues  and  beauty, 


TWILIGHT   ECHOES.  131 

They  might  have  been  happy,  each  in  his  way, 

And  blessed  the  glad  earth  for  many  a  day. 

Thus  the  world,  in  its  blindness,  oft  misses  the  light 

That  falls  on  the  pathway  of  those  who  do  right, 

And  gropes  in  the  darkness  of  folly  and  sin, 

Leading  far  from  the   track  where   the   sunshine   creeps    in. 


JACK'S  NEW  YEAE. 

It's    New    Year's  day  to-morrow,  and    I've   lots    of   things 

to  do; 
I    must    carry    that    sled    to    Ben,    and   the   skates   to    his 

brother  Lou; 
And  I  promised  to  build  a  snow-fort  for  Burnie  under  th^ 

hill— 
The   factory   boy   that   lost   his   arm   a    year    ago    in    the 

mill. 

So  you  see  there's  lots  on  my  mind,  and  I'm  willing  to  do 

it,  too, 
But,  somehow,  it  don't   seem    the  same  this   year    that   it. 

used  to  do. 
For  I  used  to  be  ever  so  anxious   for  Christmas  and   New 

Year's  fun, 
For   the   jolliest   of   all    the   seasons    that   comes   when    the 

summer  is  done. 


132  TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 

I  remember  I  always  was  wishing,  from  January  till  May, 
And  j  from    May    around   to    December,    and   from    then    to 

New  Year's  day, 
For   the   visit   of   dear   old   "Santy,"    with   his   sleigh    and 

tiny  reindeer; 
But  to-night,  'though  I'm  sure  he's  coming,  I'm  sorry  to 

know  he's  near. 

I  wonder  what  is  the  matter?  It  must  be  I've  done  some 
thing  wrong, 

Or  the  day  wouldn't  lose  its  sunshine,  and  the  music  go 
out  of  my  song; 

For  I '  ve  whistled  and  sung  till  I '  m  tired,  and  thought  of 
the  fun  with  the  boys; 

But  something,  that's  just  like  a  shadow,  seems  hiding 
the  New  Year's  joys. 

The  fellows  all  like  me,  I'm  sure,  and   /  like   all   of   them 

except  one, 
But  I  hate  him,  and  never,  no  never,  will  I  speak  to  him 

under  the  sun, 
For    he   struck   me,    and    called    me    a    coward    because    I 

woudn't  strike  back; 
And  I  never  will  do  him  a  kindness   as  long  as   my  name 

is  Jack. 

But  somehow  I'm  rather  uneasy.  I  wish  I  had  spoken 
last  night, 


TWILIGHT   ECHOES.  133 

When  he  stopped  and  said  he  was  "sorry,"  but,  of  course 

I  thought  /  was  right, 
As  I  turned  from  the  gate  without    speaking   and    left  the 

poor  fellow  outside, 
But   I   had   the   awfiilest    feeling,   and    almost    could    have 

cried. 

There's  only  one  way  to  fix  it.    /  must,  now,  go  over  to 

him, 
Though  I  said    I   never  would    do    it,    but   then,    I    always 

liked  Jim, 
So  I'll  just  go  to-night  and   tell   him  I   shall  lose   all   the 

New  Year's  joys 
If  I  start  on  the  New  Year  hating   any    one  of   the   boys. 


MISCHIEF. 

How  do  you  think  I  look 

In  grandma's  cap  and  gown, 
Sitting  so  prim  in  her  rocking-chair 

With  the  knitting  she's  just  laid  down? 

I  found  it  so  still  as  I  peeped 
Through  the  crack  of  the  open  door, 

I  thought,   "Now  she's  out,  I '77  just  step  in 
And  stay  a  minute,  no  more, 


134  TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 

And  try  on  that  funny  old  dress 
She  keeps  wrapped  up  in  a  cloth, 

All  scented  with  lavender,  clover  and  mint, 
She  says  is  "to  keep  out  the  moth." 

The  dress  is  too  long,   as  you  see, 
There's  ever  so  much  on  the  floor, 

And   the  cap's  very  large  for  .such  a  small  head, 
And  the  "specs"  make  the  needles  look  more. 

But  I  guess  I  can  take  a  few  stitches, 

It  I  look  far  over  the  rim ; 
Grandma  herself  couldn't  make  it  look  better, 

Nor  draw  in  the  edges  so  trim. 

But  mercy!    She's  coming!    How  hateful; 

I've  dropped  every  stitch  in  that  row, 
And  I '  ve  stepped  on  her  gown  and  rumpled  her  cap, 

And  ruined  her  knitting,  I  know. 

I   wish  I  had  stayed  down  stairs, 
Playing  school  with  Bessie  and  Ben, 

But  if  grandma  will  only  forgive  me  this   om'e 
I  never  will  meddle  again. 


TWILIGHT   ECHOES.  135 


THE  LILY  FAIRY. 

There  lived  in  far-off  Normandy, 

Across  the  sunny  sea, 
A  grandam  old  and  little  maid, 

As  fair  as  child  could  be. 

Florette,  her  name,  with  golden  hair 

And  eyes  of  azure  hue, 
That  seemed  reflecting  from  their  depths 

The  skies  of  Norman  blue. 

Beside  a  mountain  stream  their  cot 

Lny  nestled  in  the  vale, 
And  at  their  fireside  oft  was  heard 

A  wondrous  fairy  tale, 

Of  how  an  elfin  king,  that  ruled 

The  fairy  realm  of  old, 
Unto  an  elfin  witch's  power 

A  fairy  princess  sold, 

Who,  for  a  weary  space  of  years, 

Within  a  lily  bell 
Should  lie  imprisoned  in  its  heart, 

Till  o'er  the  mystic  spell 


136  TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 

A  human  hand  should  lift  the  wand 

And  let  the  sunshine  in, 
And  from  the  flower  prison-cell 

The  fairy  princess  win. 

The  little  maid  had  pondered  oft 
With  grief  the  fairy's  doom, 

And  searched  in  vain  the  fields  and  woods 
To  find  the  flower-tomb. 

And  so  the  days  wore  on  apace, 
Till  spring  and  summer  faded, 

And  autumn  smiled  o'er  all  the  land 
With  gold  and  purple  shaded. 

When  through  the  fields  one  shining  morn 
The  little  maid  went  singing, 

To  fetch  the  water  from  the  spring, 
She  heard  q,  distant  ringing. 

She  paused,  then  through  the  dewy  flowers 

With  haste  she  sped  along, 
And  as  she  neared  the  bubbling  spring 

The  ringing  seemed  a  song 

Which  grew  to  words,  as  close  she  pressed 

Beside  the  crystal  fountain, 
Where  in  among  the  flowers  lay  hid 

The  fairy  of  the  mountain. 


TWILIGHT   ECHOES.  137 

"Oh!    haste  thee,  haste  thee,  pretty  maid; 

Release  me,  or  I  die ; 
A  hundred  years  I've  lain,  and  still 

A  hundred  more  must  lie, 

Unless  from  out  my  prison  cell 

Some  kindly  hand  shall  free  me; 
Pray,  let  the  sunshine  in,  Florette, 

Push  back  the  leaves  and  see  me." 

Florette,  amazed  to  hear  her  name, 

With  trembling  haste  obeyed, 
When,  lo!    A  lily-bell  sprang  up 

Before  the  wondering  maid. 

The  waxen  petals  opened  wide 

As  in  the  sunshine  drifted, 
And  from  the  enchanted  flower-cell 

The  fairy  form  was  lifted. 

A  tiny  form  with  azure  wings 

And  robe  of  rainbow  dyes, 
Held  forth  a  crown  of  lilies  fair 

Before  the  childish  eyes. 

"This  crown  of  shining  flowers,  child," 

The  fairy  softly  said, 
"Is  fashioned  from  the  gems  I  love 

To  place  upon  your  head, 


138  TWILIGHT    ECHOES. 

"  In  token  of  a  fairy  pledge 
To  keep  your  feet  from  straying, 

To  light  your  path  through  storm  and    shine, 
At  labor,  or  at  playing; 

"And  when,  your  deeds  are  wrought  with  low, 

These  lilies  shall  grow  fairer, 
A  shining  crown  upon  your  brow, 

A  glory  to  the  wearer." 

And  so  it  proved,    As  years  sped  on 
Kind  acts  brought  golden  treasure, 

With  grace  and  beauty,  light  and  love, 
0 'erflowed  Florette's  life  measure. 

And  how,  you  ask,  could  crown  of  flowers 
Bring  grace  and  love  and  beauty? 

Good  deeds  were  written  in  her  life; 
She  simply  did  her  duty. 


THE  SPIDER  AND  THE  FLY. 

MODERN. 

Have  you  heard  the  story,  children, 
Of  the  spider  and  the  fly; 

Of  how  a  cruel  monster, 
With  a  wicked,  flattering  lie, 


TWILIGHT   ECHOES.  139 

Inveigled  to  his  "parlor" 

Up  a  mythic  winding  stair, 
The  silly  little  insect, 

And  dined  upon  her  there? 

If  not,  then  listen  closely 

To  the  plan  the  spider  laid 
To  secure  his  little  victim 

With  a  scheme  so  neatly  made. 
Close  to  the  spider '  s  parlor, 

One  sunny  summer's  day, 
The  pretty  fly  came  buzzing, 

When  she  heard  the  spider  say : 

"  Good  morrow,  little  stranger, 

Have  you  journeyed  far,"   said  he. 
"Just  step  into  my  parlor, 

'  Tis  the  prettiest  one  might  see ; 
Up  this  curious  winding  ladder, 

Or  I  should  say  winding  stair, 
Just  follow  and  I'll  lead  you 

Where  I  keep  my  treasures  rare. 

"You're  looking  very  weary, 

I   wish  you '  d  rest  awhile ; 
Do  dine  with  me,  you're  welcome," 

Then  turned  aside  to  smile, 


140  TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 

"And  though  I've  never  told  it, 
You  can  not  fail  to  see 

How  you're  lovely  face  has  won  me; 
Ah,  you're  surely  meant  for  me.'' 

But  the  fly,  suspecting  mischief, 

Said,   "I  thank  you,  gentle  sir; 
I  have  hardly  time  to  tarry  now, 

My  visit  I'll  defer 
Till  a  more  convenient  morning, 

When,  perhaps,  I  may  drop  in, 
Just  to  look  upon  those  treasures 

You  say  you  have  within." 

The  spider,  nothing  daunted, 

Said  "Good  morning"  to  his  guest, 
And  added:    "When  you  come  again, 

Be  sure  to  stop  and  rest." 
Then  to  his  "pretty  parlor," 

Hungry  back  he  ran  with  speed, 
Quite  well  assured  his  dainty  guest 

Would  soon  supply  his  need. 

His  web  he  readjusted 
With  a  netting  extra  strong; 

Then  hastened  to  his  doorway, 
With  a  most  seductive  song, 


TWILIGHT   ECHOES.  141 

And  sang:    "Come  hither,  pretty  fly, 

I  long  to  see  your  face 
And  gaze  into  your  diamond  eyes, 

And  view  your  form  of  grace. 

"With  your  handsome  gauzy  wings, 

And  robe  of  rainbow  dyes, 
You  are  counted  very  comely, 

Most  clever,  too,  and  wise. 
If  you  doubt  it,  you  have  only 

To  step  in  and  view  yourself 
In  a  mirror  at  your  service, 

Just  upon  my  parlor  shelf." 

Alas!    the  silly  insect, 

Caught  by  the  wily  song, 
Thinking  only  of  her  beauty, 

Without  a  fear  of  wrong, 
Soon  returned  to  view  the  "parlor," 

With  its  boasted  "treasures  rare," 
And  to  gaze  upon  her  features 

In  the  little  mirror  there. 

The  spider  watched  her  coming, 

And  hid  within  his  den. 
She  labored  up  his  "winding  stair," 

But  ne'er  came  down  again, 


142  TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 

And  all  too  late  she  learned  the  truth, 
That  wisdom  ne'er  is  found, 

In  listening  to  a  tempter's  song, 
Where  flattering  words  abound. 


PUSHED  OUT  OF  THE  NEST. 

Oh  dear!    How  I  shiver,  although  it  is  May! 

But  they  tell  me  that  all '  s  for  the  best, 
Yet  I  wonder  what  father  and  mother  can  mean 

By  pushing  me  out  of  the  nest! 

Since  the  day  we  came  out  of   some  tiny  blue  shells, 

In  our  soft  little  nest  on  the  tree, 
They've  fed  us  with  morsels  of  bugs  and  worms, 

My  two  little  brothers  and  me. 

But   to-day   when  they  fed  us  our  breakfast  of  bugs, 
Which  they  found  in  the  field  of  clover, 

They  coaxed  me  up  to  the  edge  of  the  nest, 
Then  quietly  pushed  me  over! 

What's  that  in  the  grass?    A  cat,  as  I  live! 

Dear  me!    how  I  wish  I  could  fly! 
But  my  wings  are  too  small  and  my   body  so  larpe, 

And  the  trees  seem  so  very  high ! 


TWILIGHT    ECHOES.  143 

But  he's  coming  this  way!   He's  seen  me,  I'm  sure! 

I  must  try  my  wings  at  least! 
There!    really,  I'm  safe  on  the  top  of  this  bush, 

And  the  cat's  cheated  out  of  a  feast! 

Well,  flying  is  easy,  if  one  only  tries, 

But  one  never  learns  in  the  nest; 
So,  whenever  pushed  out  by  the  old  birds,   be  sure 

You  will  soon  learn  what's  for  the  best. 


CHRISTMAS  CAROL. 

Hail,  holy  morn! 

The  advent  of  our  King! 
To  Christ  the  Savior  born 

All  glory  bring  ! 

Chant  the  anthem's  heavenly  strain, 
Sung  of  old  on  Bethlehem's  plain, 
Glory  in  the  highest  sing, 
Glory  !    Glory  !    Glory  ! 

Peace   on  earth  proclaim, 
And  good-will  to  men  ! 

Hail  the  Princely  Name, 
Chant  His  praise  again  ! 


144  TWILIGHT    ECHOES. 

Render  now  Thy  will  be  done, 
Bow  before  the  Holy  One  ! 

Glory  ever  to  the  same, 
Glory  !    Glory  !    Glory  ! 

Ye  weary,  loosed  from  sin, 
No  longer  prostrate  lie  ! 
Glad  tidings  enter  in 

From  heralds  of  the  sky  ! 
Earth '  s  redeemed  !    "With  seraphs  sing 
Hallelujahs  to  our  King  ! 

Glory  be  to  God  on  high. 
Glory  !    Glory  !    Glory  ! 


DRAMA  FOR  LITTLE  ONES. 


LOVE'S    VICTORY. 

DRAMATIS   P  E  R  S  O  N  -E  : 

Prince  Rudolph,  of  Castle  Offenstein. 
Lady  Constance,  of  Castle  Waldenbeck. 
Otto,  Page  to  the  Prince. 

Zephyr,  the  Fairy  Godmother,  who  presided  at  Lady  Con 
stance's  birth. 


SCENE  I — In  Waldenbeck  Wood. 
SCENE  II— Chapel  in  the  "Wood. 
SCENE  III— The  ball  at  Castle  Offenstein. 
Finale— Fairy  Ballet. 


The  Drama  to  be  used  as  a  final  production  in  a  parlor  entertain 
ment,  to  consist  of  recitations,  tableaux,  music  and  charades,  ad 
libitum.  A.  century's  feud  broken  by  the  marriage  of  Prince  Rudolph 
to  Lady  Constance. 


Page  Otto— 

'  Tis  late,   my  Lord,  why  linger  in  this  wood  ? 
Surely  from  waiting  cometh  nothing  good. 

Prince  Rudolph — 

'Tis  never  late  while  waiting  for  one's  Love! 
Have  patience,  Page  of  mine,  all  things  above. 


146  TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 

Page  Otto— 

And  yet  the  hour  is  past,  the  tryst  unkept, 
And  all  the  bounds  of  patience  overstepped. 

Prince  Rudolph— 

Fear  not,  good  Otto,  for  by  yonder  moon 
I'll  wage  my  Lady  Constance  cometh  soon. 

Page  Otto— 

The  midnight  hour  has  tolled,  the  moon  dips  low; 
Methinks  the  Lady  Constance  rideth  slow. 

Prince  Rudolph — 

She  rideth  near,  in  sooth,  the  saints  are  good! 
E '  en  now  I  hear  her  near  the  chapel  wood. 

Page  Otto— 

'Tie  true,  my  Lord;    no  longer  may  you  wait; 
Love  conquers  time,  though  oft  he  conquers  late. 

Enter  from  forest  path  Lady  Constance,  alone. 

Lady  Constance — 

Ah,  Rudolph !   Patient  lover !  I  am  here  at  last, 
Though  many  dangers  'round  my  path  were  cast. 

Prince  Rudolph — 

But  safe  at  last,  and  free  from  baneful  charm ; 

We  only  wait  fair  Zephyr  to  shield  us  from  all  harm. 

Zephyr— 

No  longer  wait.    Behold  me  at  your  side! 

What  wouldst  thou,   Prince,   my  lady  for  a  bride? 


TWILIGHT    ECHOES.  147 

Prince  Rudolph — 

My  Lady  Constance  and  her  constant  love, 
A  guerdon,  Fairy,  all  other  gifts  above! 

Zephyr — 

The  priest  is  waiting  in  the  old  Chapelle; 
Will  wed  ye  ere  the  new  day's  matin  bell. 

Prince  Rudolph — 

A  blessing,  Fairy,  we  would  crave  of  thee, 
At  midnight  here  within  the  forest  free. 

Zephyrs  Blessing — 

The  towers  of  Waldenbeck  for  thee  eh  ail  shine, 
The  Flower  of  Waldenbeck,  my  Lord,  is  thine. 

Prince    Rudolph,     Lady    Constance    and    Page    Otto    sing 

thanks  to  Zephyr. 
All  singing — 

Thanks  to  thee,   Fay,  for  thy  gentle  grace! 

Long  may  ye  reign  in  the  greenwood  place! 

Queen  may  ye  reign  in  the  greenwood  bowers! 

Hover  and  guard  over  Waldenbeck  Towers! 


IMPROMPTU  LINES. 


I  know  not  how  the  coming  days  shall  waken, 
Nor  if  to  them  their  light  will  constant  be; 

I  only  know  that  when  your  light  is  taken, 
It  will  be  darkness  till  you  dawn  on  me. 


OMNE  TEMPUS. 

What  shall  I  write,  sweet  friend, 
That  Time  shall  not  amend, 

Nor  years  distort? 
The  Gold  of  life  be  yours, 
The  love  that  best  endures 

Through  storms  to  port! 


DAVIS'S  MILL. 

God  sent  the  sunshine,  fairest  gift, 
To  glad  the  heart  of  Nature, 

But  left  the  gift  to  gladden  life 
With  one  fair  human  creature. 

July  30.  1884. 


TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 


THY  PRESENCE. 

There  is  no  day  without  thee, 
There  is  no  night  complete; 

The  glory  of  thy  presence 
Makes  all  things  fair  and  sweet. 


YOU. 

Write  you  "something  sweet,"  Love, 
"I've  nothing  else  to  do"? 

All  the  sweet  in  life,  Love, 
I  write  in  writing  "You." 


ST.  AGNES  EYE. 

I  kissed  you,  Dear,  in  dreams 

On  sweet  St.  Agnes  Eve, 
And  the  night  held  rosy  beams, 

Such  as  fays  from  sunlight  weave. 


AUGUST  AFTERNOON. 

The  shadows  lengthen,  Oh,  how  sweet! 
The  glories  deepen,  Oh,  how  meet 
For  such  a  dav! 


150  TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 

All  that  a  life  may  hold 
These  golden  hours  enfold, 
Now  dying  at  our  feet. 


FROM  ME  TO  THEE. 

In  love's  language  truly  told, 
Read  within  the  story  old, 

Brief  and  quaint  the  tale  will  be; 
Read  and  find  "From  me  to   thee." 


ANON. 

Life's  music  ever  fails  us 

Till  its  saddest  strains  are  sung; 
'Tis  only  out  of  sorrow 

All  the  sweetest  notes  are  wrung. 


CHRISTMAS  VERSES. 


TO 


I  send  with  the  flowers 
This  Christmas  morn 

Love's  greeting  warm  and  true, 
With  a  blessing,  Dear,  that  will  last  for  aye, 
When  the  flowers  and  words  have  faded  away, 

And  my  heart  has  no  more  to  do. 


TO  A.  N. 

Open  your  heart  to  a  little  guest, 
Sent  to  greet  you  this  Christmas  day, 

In  love's  garment  gaily  drest; 
He  will  whisper  what  I  say. 

With  the  chimes  across  the  snow 

Peace  and  love  to  you  will  flow. 


TO    *     *     * 

Accept  my  love  this  Christmas  day; 

It  will  tell  you  all  that  the  year  could  say 

Of  a  love  that  will  last  forever  and  aye, 


152  TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 

Beyond  life's  night  and  morning, 
Beyond  the  shadow  of  earthly  bound, 
Where  the  light  of  all  Christmas- tides  is  found, 

The  celestial  land  adorning. 


TO 


No  new  love  words  can  I  say, 

Dear  One,  on  this  Christmas  day; 

No  new  music  can  I  bring 

With  the  words  my  heart  will  bring; 

But  to  words  and  music  made, 

On  love's  altar  for  thee  laid, 

Let  me,   to  enrich  the  rest, 

To  "I  love  thee"  add  "the  best," 


AUTOGRAPH  SCRAPS. 


TO  S.  M. 

In  after  years,  when  looking  back 
Through  memory's  misty  veil, 

Your  weary  heart  shall  idly  count 
The  shadows  dim  and  pale, 

And,  counting,  call  again  the   friends 
Your  sunny  girlhood  knew; 

Let  memory  place  me  in  the  rank 
Among  the  tried  and  true. 


TO  A.  M.  W. 

A  bal  masque  is  life  on  a  very  grand  scale, 
And  the  maskers  are  thronging  its  portals; 

Some   laugh  as  they  enter,  and  some  stop  to    sigh, 
And  some  are  the  saddest  of  mortals. 

Now  try  to  be  gay,   and  laugh  with  the  throng, 

Ileach  alway  and  ever  for  roses, 
And  if  hurt  by  the  thorns,  a  balm  you  will  find, 

In  a  sweetness  each  petal  discloses. 


154  TWILIGHT    ECHOES. 


TO  C.  S. 

My  name  for  this  casket  of  flowers, 
I  assure  you,  is  worthless  indeed ; 

You  ask  for  a  rose,  but  instead, 
Behold,  you  have  naught  but  a  "  Weed." 


TO  ALICE  A. 

Carefully  ponder  the  truth  I  give, 

With  full  permission  to  lend: 
There's  nothing  on  earth  so  hard  to  find 

As  a  true  and  faithful  friend. 


TO  LOUIE  W. 

In  your  heart's  corridor, 
Ringing  love's  whisper, 

Carry  my  singing 
Down  to  life's  vesper. 


TO  C.  H. 

My  dear  little  girl,  when  you  grow  to  a  woman, 
And  read  o'er  the  wishes  now  written  for  you, 

May  your  heart  in  its  search  for  a  love  yet  unspoken, 
Find  all  it  requires  to  banish  life's  "rue." 


TWILIGHT   ECHOES.  155 

• 
May  the  links  of  love's  forging  be  left  in  your  keeping, 

And  held  still  unbroken  by  time  in  its  flight, 
And  may  all  that  can  bless  and  brighten  life's  pathway 

Be  yours,  little  girl,  till  the  coming  of  night. 


TO  L.  R. 

The  violet  blooms  by  the  singing  brook, 
And  sheds  its  sweets  for  a  day; 

The  primrose  buds  in  the  wayside  nook, 
Then  blushing  fades  away. 

So  I  will  not  bring  to  wear  on  your  heart 

The  flower  so  soon  forgot, 
But  one  that  shall  last  till  life  shall  cease, 

The  treasured  forget-me-not. 


TO  H.  E.  S. 

Whenever  you  wander  to  this  little  spot, 
The  very  last  one  in  the  book, 

Look  close  and  the  floweret  forget-me-not 
You'll  find  in  this  little  nook. 


TO  N.  S. 

Along  the  path  of  life  you  tread, 
Though  thorns  may  wound  your  feet, 
In  the  hedges  low 
The  roses  blow, 
A  healing  balm  of  sweet. 


156  TWILIGHT    ECHOES. 


TO  F.  S. 

'  Tis  better  to  have  held  the  roses, 
Though  the  hand  that  held  them  bled, 

Than  never  to  have  known  their  sweetness 
Ere  their  fragrance  all  had  fled. 

Better  far  to  pluck  the  lilies, 

Rocking  on  their  tiny  stems, 
Than  to  let  them  droop  and  wither, 

Ruined,  wasted  diadems. 

Better  'tis  to  know  the  morning, 
Even  though  the  shadows  fall, 

Than  forever  dwell  in  darkness, 
And  enjoy  no  rays  at  all. 

So  grieve  not  if  hurt  by  roses, 

Mourn  not  for  the  lilies  slain, 
Morning  comes  and  brings  its  healing 

And  restores  all  sweets  again. 


ACROSTICS. 


GARFIELD. 

Great-hearted  hero !    A  country's  pride ! 

All  nations  mourn  the  quenching  of  his  light; 
Round  the  vast  globe  the  echoes  still  abide; 

Fond  hearts  are  mourning  still  a  nation's  blight. 
Into  the  "Shadow-Land,"  with  pilgrim-shoon, 

Entered  the  martyr-chief,  life's  battle  o'er; 
Leaving  earth's  mystery  for  the  heavenly  rune, 

Dawn  found  him  mid  the  glories  of  the  better  shore. 


NEAL. 

Not  the  seraphs  above  in  that  dreamland  of  glory, 
Ever  sing  without  love  in  that  region  of  bliss. 

All  the  choristers  kneeling  chant  low  the  sweet  story, 
Love  reigns  in  that  realm  as  it  rules  over  this. 


MAY. 

May  all  the  blessings  life  can  hold 
Around  thy  pathway  closely  fold,  and 
Yield  love's  magic  gifts  of  gold. 


BIRTHDAY  VERSES. 


TO 


Accept  these  violets,  Dear; 

Their  muteness  may  serve  so  well 
To  tell  you  all  in  their  quiet  way 

What  my  heart  is  too  far  to  tell. 

And  may  the  sweets  they  breathe 

Pervade  the  coming  years, 
And  may  each  dawn  be  crowned  with   love, 

Each  close  undimmed  by  tears. 


TO  C.  C.  H. 

Fair  friend,  I  wish  thee  fair 
In  all  that  life  may  send: 
Fond  hearts  thine  own  to  wear, 
Life's  years  untouched  by  care, 
Be  thine  till  life  shall  end. 


IN   MEMORIAM. 


Oh,  silvery  tones  now  vanished, 
Borne  down  the  waste  to  me, 

Through  all  life's  day  will  echo, 
"My  faith  looks  up  to  Thee." 

Our  trembling  lips  will  falter, 
Our  tears  we  can  not  hide; 

Our  empty  hearts  will  weary, 
Calling  till  eventide. 

All  through  the  days  unlighted, 
And  through  the  years  to  be, 

Across  the  shadowed  silence, 
Our  hearts  will  reach  to  Thee; 

And  passionately  calling, 
Will  yearn  once  more  to  hear 

Thy  fond  voice  softly  whisper, 
Thy  spirit  draw  anear. 

And  far  adown  the  silence, 
Across  life's  boundless  sea, 

"Will  float  for  aye  the  murmur: 
"My  faith  looks  up  to  Thee." 


160  TWILIGHT   ECHOES. 

Ah!  that  our  warm  earth-kisses, 
Close  pressed  to  lips  so  mute, 

Might  wake  again  life's  music 
From  out  the  silent  lute, 

To  teach  us  in  our  weeping, 
Low  on  the  bended  knee, 

With  trusting  hearts  to   murmur: 
"My  faith  looks  up  to  Thee." 

Greenwich,  Conn.,  December  11,  1ST8, 


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